


Beets

by walkingivy



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, BAMF Daryl Dixon, Beets, Character Death, Child Abuse, Gen, Kid Daryl Dixon, Medical Inaccuracies, Post-Season/Series 02, Team as Family, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingivy/pseuds/walkingivy
Summary: Rick and company are either about to starve or get overtaken by a large herd of Walkers. Everyone knows this is the worst off they’ve been since the farm fell a few months ago, but no one’s given voice to the oppressive thought. Coming across a teenage runaway by the name of Daryl Dixon may have saved their lives, but keeping him around brings about a whole different set of problems.





	1. The First Can

**Author's Note:**

> I COULD be finishing some of my old work, but instead I’m feeding my newest obsessions. I mean… I’m writing again, so that’s progress, right?

It started with a can of sliced beets dangling from a tree branch by a red string, hovering at about eye height. At first, Rick thought it was a mirage, that his hunger had eaten away at his brain until it started generating fictitious images in order to quell the storm that was currently raging inside his stomach. It was the tail end of winter and even an experienced hunter would have found the woods barren of food, not that they had any hunter at all. It had been days since any of them had eaten, and they’d done an arduous amount of walking and running during that time.

Rick glanced back at his group and found that they were all staring intently at the can of beets hanging down. Not a mirage then. “Glenn?”

“It could be a trap.” Glenn declared somewhat reluctantly, swallowing hard at the sudden influx of saliva in his mouth. His body thought he was going to get fed soon.

“Yeah. Keep your eyes peeled and be sure to watch your feet.” Rick agreed, taking a cautious step forwards. 

“Could be someone’s back-up plan.” T-Dog suggested while Rick was carefully making his way towards the tree. There was some disturbance in the leaves, like someone had been there, but he couldn’t see any signs of a trap. Still, he shuffled until he reached the can, checking the area thoroughly before cutting it down from its string. It was still sealed. Hell, it wasn’t even expired. He turned to the group. There wasn’t enough to go around. At best, they could each have a slice or two and that would likely awaken more hunger than satisfy anything. 

Rick looked back at the can in his hand and couldn’t help but contemplate what had brought them to this situation. After Hershel’s farm fell to the dead, they’d spent the vast majority of their time moving from house to house, clearing them of Walkers and every useful item before spending the night and heading to the next building. They had a system, and they had survived. Most of the houses didn’t have all that much in the way of food, but it had been enough. Everything perishable had long since perished, so only canned goods were much use at this point. Most of the previous owners had fled, draining their cupboards before they went, and many of the houses had already been searched by other survivors. To make matters worse, herds of Walkers seemed to becoming larger and more prevalent, and they found themselves circling around to avoid them, which frequently forced them back towards houses that had already been searched. It was no small portion of luck that had allowed them to make it through the winter, but their luck seemed to have run out. 

Out of gas, they’d been forced to abandon their vehicles and make their way into the woods to stay ahead of the quickly encroaching herd, and they’d been walking ever since. Either the herd was massive or their luck had turned especially sour, but they couldn’t seem to get out of its way. They were getting up earlier each day to stay ahead of the wave of Walkers and running on fumes. The map they’d been using was somehow gone, seemingly lost in the dash to flee the cars. It was just as well because any one of them might have considered eating it by this point anyway, and Rick wasn’t sure it’d improve their chances of finding the town with hardly anything to navigate by. 

“We’ve been heading mostly in a straight line due east since we hit the forest.” Rick began slowly. “There’s a town not too far from where we are. We should reach it in a few more hours of walking. We can’t make it tonight; it’s almost dark, but we should be there tomorrow.” He didn’t really know how far away they were from the town, or even if he’d managed to keep them pointed in the right direction. Walkers had altered their course often and their pace was somewhat hampered by Hershel who was older and slower and Lori who didn’t usually have problems keeping up despite her extra burden, but frequently had to stop to pee. Up to this point, he’d kept his promises of a town vague, but he needed to offer a consolation prize since only one of them was going to get fed tonight. “And we’re going to find something to eat just as soon as we get there, and a safe place to let the herd pass us by. But tonight, this can is going to Lori.” 

No one disputed this, despite how hungry every one of them had to be. They had even run out of water that morning and had yet to pass a stream to refill their empty bottles. Rick wasn’t sure if they understood his reasonings or were simply too tired to argue any more, but none of them wanted to take food away from his pregnant wife. No one except Lori, that is, who stood there with the can and the canopener Beth had produced from her bag and stared at Rick with a look that was a cross between discomfort and hunger.

“We should share it.” Lori whispered, though it was quiet enough in the woods that everyone could hear her. “We’ve never had to go this long with nothing.”

“I know you want to.” Rick said, shaking his head. “But a few bites for all of us will not solve the problem for any of us. Too long without food and that baby could die, and here is not the place for us to have a medical emergency like that.” He wondered if the baby would come back like Shane had if it died inside her womb. He shuddered at the thought and kept it to himself.

Lori ate the can of beets in silence and they all took a sip of the juice from the can. They traveled in silence, set up camp in silence and then they took turns sleeping and keeping watch in silence. It was probably only because of this long, pervasive silence that Rick heard a slight shuffling, different from the way that the leaves shifted in the wind. He tensed up, preparing to wake everyone and get them moving, even if it was still dark, but there were no more sounds. The moon was bright above them, filtering through the trees more than most nights, so his field of vision expanded quite a bit further than the light from the tiny campfire. He gazed into the semi-darkness. If it had been a Walker, it would be making more noise and it would be coming towards the camp. His shoulders eased at the thought. Perhaps there were some animals around that hadn’t been eaten yet. The herd behind them seemed a strong deterrent for any animals that would otherwise be around, though. 

Rick stared hard into the trees. A movement caught his eye, and he could make out a shadowy form in the distance. It moved into a patch of darkness and Rick lost sight of it. He waited a few minutes, taking slow, even breaths.  He turned to look at Maggie who was on watch looking in the other direction. “You see anything?” He murmured just loud enough to make it across the distance. 

“Looks clear.” Maggie affirmed, turning to look at him curiously. “Did you?”

“I thought I saw a person.”

“You mean a Walker?”

Rick shook his head. “Wasn’t walking like one, and it didn’t come towards us.”

“You sure?” Maggie asked hesitantly. “Odd for someone to be out here in the dark.”

“It could have been shadows playing tricks on me.” Rick conceded. 

“Or maybe they’ve come back for their beets.” Maggie suggested with a small grin. It didn’t stay long. “Or maybe it’s because you’ve been taking too many watches. Wake up Beth for her turn.”

Rick had been finding it particularly difficult to sleep and had been taking extra shifts guarding at night, so the implication was more realistic than insulting. The truth was that he wasn’t sure what he’d seen. He woke up Beth and laid out beside his wife, keeping his eyes in the direction he thought he’d seen a figure. His intention was to keep watching for a while longer while he relaxed, but he found himself drifting off almost immediately.

He dreamt about beets, which wasn’t all that surprising because he always seemed to dream of food these days. Another can dangled in front of him off a red string, but when he looked up, he found that the string was the line to a fishing pole and a shadowing figure was sitting in the branches above them. 


	2. A Trail of Beets

When Rick woke up the next day, the sun wasn’t up yet, but it was close enough to dawn that there was plenty of light to see by. His eyes locked onto another can attached to a red string floating beside a tree some 30 feet away. He hadn’t seen it the night before but it was difficult to say if that was because it wasn’t there or that it had been dark by the time they’d found a spot to camp. 

Everyone else was already awake and trying to pack up their bags as quickly and as quietly as possible, with the exception of Carl, who was still curled up a few feet away. The fire was out, and he could make out the faint crackling of dead leaves in the distance which he’d come to recognize as the approaching herd. It wouldn’t be long before the fastest of them reached their camp. Rick woke his son and began shoving his blanket into his bag. He supposed they were lucky that this past week had been warm enough that between body heat and the fire, they weren’t risking hypothermia on the cold ground, but he could probably count on a riot if he didn’t get lucky enough to find that town before nightfall. 

“We wanted to let you sleep in as much as possible.” Hershel spoke in his normal, quiet, even tone. “No one has been getting much sleep these last few days.”

“Thanks.” Rick nodded as he looked around the group to confirm that everyone was ready to leave. He smiled faintly at his wife, patted Carl on the head, and then began to lead the way again. 

He approached the can of beets quicker than he had the day before, but with no less caution. Seeing no sign of danger again, he cut down the can and handed it to Beth. “Split that with Hershel. You’ll have to eat while we walk; they’re too close to slow down here.”

Rick looked around to determine their route. Due East was the easiest to stay ahead of the herd; he just hoped they hadn’t curved away from the town. They wouldn’t be able to turn around and the next town was… well, it was too far to be useful. 

“There!” Carol said, pointing out. Rick scanned the trees where she was gesturing and spotting a third can dangling from a red string, mostly obscured by branches and twigs. It was more to the north than they’d been heading, but if they hurried, they could make the detour and still keep their distance from the Walkers behind them. There was no way they were turning down the food.

Picking up the pace, the group hurried to the next can. Again, Rick examined the area carefully before cutting down what turned out to be another can of beets. “Carl, you’re going to split this with Carol.” He decided, already searching the trees for another can. 

“I see it.” Glenn pointed forward, but the next one was fairly obvious despite being further away, keeping them in the same altered trajectory as the last one. A straight line from where they were standing. 

As they made their way over at a quick trot, Beth trailing slightly behind as she worked the can opener on the two cans, Carl asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. “So, why are there cans of beets out here in the woods?”

“Could be someone marking a route.” T-Dog said slowly, though no one believed that reasoning. No one wasted food like that. 

Maggie shook her head. “No, someone set this up for us. We’re being led.”

“But towards what?” Lori asked, arm cradling her stomach to try and alleviate the strain of the fast pace. 

“A trap, undoubtedly.” Carol stated bluntly. She’d gotten harder since Sophia’s death, and she seemed intent on facing reality as it was, no matter how dark or difficult.

Rick reached the can first, repeating the cautious observation of the area before getting the beets down. Everyone was looking for another can now, examining the woods in front of them thoroughly. After a few minutes had passed, it became clear that there wasn’t another can in sight. There may not be another can in the woods. He looked at Glenn, who nodded at him. They would be the ones to go without. He took the can opener from Beth, opened the beets, and took a gulp of the juice inside. It wasn’t ideal, but he was parched. Passing the can to Glenn, the Korean took a long gulp as well before handing it to Maggie. “Maggie and T-Dog are going to split this one.” Rick declared. Maggie frowned but didn’t protest. 

Rick led them forward in the same trajectory that they’d been heading, some of them eating, savoring the beets like they were chocolate. Rick felt his stomach rumbling and decided that talking was better than thinking about how very hungry he was. “If they wanted us dead, they’d have probably attacked by now, or tried to slow us down so the Walkers took care of it. If they wanted our stuff, it doesn’t make sense to waste their food supplies on us first.”

“Not that we have much that’s worth stealing.” T-Dog commented with a shrug.

“Maybe they want weapons and have food, and we’re just pack mules to them.” Carol suggested, managing to make the idea of them being used to carry stuff before being robbed and probably murdered sound bland.

“Or maybe they’re just good people trying to help us.” Rick looked back at Beth who just smiled. The idea was naive, but she knew that. “It’s possible.” 

Rick didn’t dispute it, letting the positive attitude sink into the group. They could use a little more hope. The group walked for another twenty minutes in silence. Most days, Carl would start up a word game with Glenn or Maggie or Beth, but today felt different and everyone was simultaneously hopeful and wary of what lay ahead. 

“Do you hear that?” Lori asked. Everyone stopped and listened.

“It’s a stream.” Maggie said. “We’re getting close.”

Sure enough, they crested a small hill ten minutes later and spotted the moving water.  “Okay.” Rick announced, letting some relief creep onto his face. “We’re going to take a ten minute break here, fill up our water bottles and clean up a little bit. Keep your guard up.”

“Also, don’t drink the water.” Hershel added.

“But it’s moving. It should be fine.” Maggie argued.

“There’s also a herd of Walkers upstream.” Her father countered. “We don’t know what could be flowing down. We boil it, like we always do.” 

Rick tried to keep the disappointment off his face. His throat was so dry it hurt. He was tempted to drink the water himself, but Hershel was probably right. They needed to play it safe. 

“Do you think the beets were to lead us to this stream?” Carl asked as he dropped down to the water’s edge. 

“Maybe. Either way, we’re lucky. We need the water.” Rick responded, watching his son filling up an empty gallon jug.

Glenn tapped on his shoulder and pointed away from the stream. Not too far away was another can of beets. Glenn grinned. Signalling to Lori where they were going, they made their way over. Rick was even more careful when searching this area. He figured if there was a trap involved, this was probably where it would be. Finding nothing, Rick took down the can.

“There’s the next one.” Glenn commented, pointing at a can dangling in the distance. Assuming they kept in a straight line, it changed their direction slightly more East, pulling them away from the herd more, but not returning to the direct East that Rick had previously been going. Whoever had created the path had veered out of their way to reach the stream and was now correcting to get to what Rick hoped was the town. If his suspicions were correct, they would most likely have missed the town on their own. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“What? Following a trail of beets through the woods?”

“Well, yeah.”

Rick shrugged. “I think that we needed water, and we were led to a stream. I think we needed food and we were supplied with some. And I have a good suspicion that if we keep following what’s set in front of us, we’re going to find some shelter, maybe enough to wait out the herd. Now, maybe we’re being manipulated for someone else’s purposes, but so far, their wants align with our needs, and I’m not prepared to look that gift horse in the mouth. We stay sharp, we stay smart, and we eat these damn beets.”

Glenn smiled, a short burst of laughter bubbling out of him at the unexpected comment, and nodded. He followed Rick back to the stream, where everyone had gathered around something on the far side of the stream. Maggie jumped over the small stream and crawled up the opposing bank, coming next to Glenn and knocking his shoulder with her own. “It’s a dead Walker. Seems freshly killed. Looks like it may have been taken out with an arrow, but whoever killed it took that with them.”

“It’s got to be whoever put up the beets.” Glenn added. “They might not be that far ahead of us. We could catch up.”

“We might not want to catch up.” Rick grunted, accepting the can-opener from Beth who had noticed their arrival and returned, and started in on the food. Rick didn’t think anything had tasted so good in his life. 

“If these gifts are benevolent, maybe we can trade for something more substantial.” Maggie argued. “And if they’re not, sneaking up behind them seems even more necessary.”

“Maggie and I can go.” Glenn volunteered, backing up his girlfriend. “We’re fast and we’ll be careful.”

Rick sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was split up the group, but he was also terrified of leading his son and his pregnant wife into a trap. “You go for an hour, straight line, following the cans, as careful as you can be. If you don’t find them by then, you stop, make a fire and boil the water while you wait for us to catch up.” 

They quickly agreed to the terms, made the arrangements, switching out appropriate gear and lightening their packs before taking off at a brisk jog. Rick watched them until their forms disappeared into the distance, then turned around just in time to see Carl slip on a rock and go down. The water wasn’t deep enough to have any fear of him going under, but he did drop directly into the water clutching his ankle and hissing in pain. Rick was at his side before he was even aware of it, gesturing for Lori to stay back away from the slippery terrain as she had also instinctively moved towards him. Scooping up his son, Rick made his way up the bank and set him down beside Hershel who immediately took a look at the injury and asked him some questions. When he was finished, he stood.

“It’s not broken, but it looks like a pretty nasty sprain. Normally I’d recommend that he stay off it for at least a few days, but things being how they are, I’m not sure how possible that is.” 

First things first, Rick scolded Carl for being careless. “We have to be careful, we have to be smart about everything, no horsing around.” 

“I wasn’t horsing around, I was just trying to clean up my shoes.” Carl defended.

Rick shook his head. “Listen, don’t talk. You don’t get to be careless anymore. That’s the only way we’re going to survive. You get injured and you’re less able to defend yourself and less able to protect our family.”

Carl nodded, but he looked like he was near tears, so Rick ruffled his hair and placed his hat back on his head to let him know that he wasn’t mad, just worried.

“They’re getting close again.” Carol stated, and the noises were getting louder from the herd behind them. 

“Time to go.” Rick announced as he organized Carl onto his back. It had been years since he’d given him a piggy-back ride and the boy had grown, so the task wasn’t easy, especially since he hadn’t been eating or sleeping properly for a while now, but there were Walkers coming and so he would manage. 

With Carl unable to walk, their pace was as slow as it’d ever been, and it took over two hours to catch up to Maggie and Glenn. It was so slow that they were only barely staying ahead of the Walkers. There were three more cans of beets that Carol took charge of retrieving, two of which they shared between them and one of which they saved for their friends. T-Dog took a turn carrying Carl to let Rick rest and had traded back again before they reached the small campsite. 

Glenn and Maggie both stood, letting out sighs of relief and kicked dirt over their small campfire. “We didn’t even jog for an hour when we reached the town. The beet trail continues, but we didn’t see whoever set it up, so we backtracked a little and made camp where there was some coverage from the trees. We were getting worried that the Walkers were going to beat you here.”

“We were getting a little worried ourselves. Carl sprained his ankle and with the change in direction, we haven’t been keeping as much space between us and the herd as before.” Rick responded with a half smile, feeling completely exhausted, but trying to stay alert. They’d finally reached the town, which was good, but they would have to find shelter quickly. “You guys did good, and we’re mighty glad to see you.”

Maggie hugged Hershel and Beth, finally acknowledging that when they split up, there was a chance they wouldn’t meet up again. Glenn moved over to Rick. “Let me take him the rest of the way. I’ve been resting.”

Rick assented and Carl slid off his back, balanced on one foot and then grabbed ahold of Glenn. “We don’t have time to stop.” Rick said as soon as Carl was situated. He bent and retrieved Glenn’s pack before leading them forward. Maggie came up to his side, pulling out her gun. Rick followed suit, taking out his knife and keeping it in his other hand. They reached the edge of the forest not five minutes later, and quickly surveyed the situation. The beet trail was, indeed, obvious, with a can sitting in the center of the road 20 yards away and another just visible down the street, marking what looked like a turn.  There were some Walkers milling about the streets, but only a handful.

“We following the path or are we going a different way?” Maggie asked, she didn’t seem to have an opinion and was trusting Rick with the call.

Rick didn’t have to think about it, realizing he’d already made his decision that morning. “We’re following the path, keep alert.” It could be a trap, but so far, whoever had set this up had done nothing but help them. The alternative was attempting to find a secure shelter with the herd just a few minutes behind them. If their first pick wasn’t strong enough or filled with Walkers, they wouldn’t have time to try again. 

The grassy slope into town was a bit steeper than he expected, and he glanced back to make sure Glenn and Lori kept their footing before leading on to the road. He looked around, including scouring the rooftops for snipers, but again, he could not see any sign of a trap. Maggie scooped up the can and they hurried down the street towards the next one. A pair of Walkers appeared as they rounded the corner, and Rick dispatched one with his knife while Maggie took the other. They wouldn’t use their guns unless they had to. Beth picked up this can of beets while everyone looked around for the trail. Just as Rick was contemplating if this was where the trail ended, he spotted a can on the stairs of the Post Office which stood down the road four buildings. If this was what had been picked for shelter, it was a good choice. The walls were brick and concrete and there were hardly any windows. It was set back from the street and had some large stone pillars obstructing the way to the main doors. Sturdy, defensible, inconspicuous. 

“Jesus.” Rick heard T-Dog say from his position guarding the rear. He looked back and saw that the herd was just beginning to break the treeline, and swallowed hard. It was every bit as massive as he’d thought, corpses stumbling onto the grass as far down as he could see in either direction. 


	3. Shelter and Rations

“T-Dog, Maggie, you’re with me. Everyone else, stay here.” Rick declared, already moving up the stairs and towards the door. They were made of glass, which was not a point in their favor, but did make it easy to peer inside. The door was unlocked, so they propped it open and cautiously took a look around. They couldn’t see anyone, living or dead, nor were there any signs of a trap. 

T-Dog flicked on a flashlight to search along the walls in the back where the light didn’t reach. In the corner, a pile of corpses was lumped unmoving. Rick moved over to it to confirm that it wasn’t a threat. There were six bodies, each with a jagged hole in their head that looked to have been made by a sizable knife. 

After, they all moved as one towards the back rooms, sweeping through a bathroom, a break room, an office, and then landing in the mail sorting room where there was a pile of food on the table that Rick could only call a feast after his days without anything. He forced himself to look away and sweep the room. There were windows up high on the walls, letting in enough daylight to make the whole room look like some sort of miracle. 

They backtracked out, looking behind the last door which led to an intake station, a large area that didn’t look as defensible. “Okay.” Rick nodded, trying to stay on guard instead of getting his hopes up. “We’ll stay here in the sorting room. You two barricade this door to the back. I’m going to get the others and then you’ll barricade the door to the lobby.

Hurrying back out front, Rick saw that everyone was looking back towards the approaching herd, entranced. Glenn was staying on guard in the other direction, but he kept shooting glances over his shoulder at the mass of dead moving towards them. There didn’t seem to be an end to them. It was a terrifying, sobering sight. Beth had grabbed hold of her father’s hand, and Carl was leaning against Lori as he balanced on one foot. 

“Come on. We’re safest if we can get situated before they spot us.” Rick said, adrenaline pumping, picking up Carl and bracing him on his side in a position that he was far too large and heavy for, Rick led them up the last few steps and into what he hoped would be safety. After setting him down on the sorting table by the food, he checked to make sure they were barricading the interior door. “What’s the hold up?” He asked as he saw Glenn was hesitating to come in.

“I was just thinking that we’re cutting off our own lines of sight. If this is a trap, we won’t know what’s coming.”

“Good point.” Rick acknowledged. “We could pry open a couple of these PO Boxes. It’ll give us a view into the lobby. Look around for anything we can use as a crowbar.”

Maggie, T-Dog and Glenn all fluttered around while Hershel, Carol and Beth quietly moved furniture around to create floorspace for them to sleep. Lori and Carl waited patiently by the food, but no one touched it.  Rick moved to the outside doors to keep watch. Maggie found a large letter opener that resembled a sword, obviously decorative in fashion and T-Dog returned with a knife from his pack. Together, they worked open several tiny metal doors scattered across the wall of mail slots before Rick hissed at them that it was good enough and they needed to get out of sight. 

There weren’t a lot of things to barricade the door with, but they moved a table and a couple chairs into the way. Wedged kitty-corner, it should prevent the door from opening more than a crack. Scooting out a high stool, Rick sat down slowly at the sorting table and let out a low sigh. It was very, very nice to sit on a chair inside a building after the ordeal in the woods. Everyone else gathered around as well, sitting on the stools or leaning against the table. Most of their eyes were on him, waiting for the next decision.

“This building seems secure enough to wait out the herd, but let’s not tempt fate. Keep your voices low. We’ll need someone on watch at all times to make sure no one, alive or dead, gets into this building without us knowing about it first.” Hopefully the Walkers wouldn’t smell them over the stink of the bodies in the lobby. Rick sorted the food by content. There were five cans of beans, five cans of tuna, six cans of beets, nine granola bars and a sealed box of Twinkies. Maggie pulled out the water that they’d boiled and placed the four gallon jugs on the table as well as the three small water bottles. Beth added her can opener to the table along with the meager cooking and eating supplies that they had felt worthy of carrying around. 

Glenn stood and shifted to the front wall. It wasn’t far, and he’d still be able to hear Rick’s quiet conversation. “I’ll take first watch.” He volunteered.

Rick considered the food. It was a feast compared to their recent intake, and a large enough meal in the before times to feed all of them. It was obviously meant to be enough food to tide them over until the next day when, hopefully, the herd had passed far enough to make moving around safe, and they could go find some more for themselves. Rick put away the tuna and the Twinkies in case, for whatever reason, they wouldn’t be able to restock the next day. Then, he handed out the granola bars. There were exactly enough for each of them. With the three cans of beets they found outside, there were, again, nine. The other cans were obviously meant to be split in half and shared. There was no more question in Rick’s mind of whether they had stumbled upon something meant for someone else or if this whole thing had been set up for his group, and that meant that they had been watched. 

“Eat your bars slowly.” Rick instructed. “Your stomachs aren’t used to food and it would be a real shame to throw up what we’ve got here. In a few hours, we’ll split up the beans and the beets.” It was quiet for a while except for the sounds of crunching and crackling wrappers. It was the closest that they’d gotten to safety in some time, and Rick had expected a little more relieved chatter, but they were all probably feeling what he was feeling. Exhausted from pushing himself for so long and leery of the unexplained gifts they’d been given. “We’ll wait twenty-four hours. Tomorrow it should be clear enough to do some scavenging.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Hershel asked, though there was no challenge in his tone. “We’re sitting exactly where we’ve been led, so there is another group out there that knows where we are, and we don’t know what their intentions may be. The herd should be far enough away to exit with minimal risk in an hour or so. We could look for other shelter.”

“There’s no point in doing that.” Rick refuted. “They’ve been watching us for a while now, and I’ve no doubt that they’ll be watching us when we leave. At least this is a strong, defensible building.”

“Unless this building was chosen as part of their trap.” Carol commented.

“Look, I don’t like the idea of trusting strangers any more than you do. The world is a cold, hard place these days, and kindness is in short supply. But whoever set this up has had ample opportunity to hurt us and instead, quite likely, has saved all our lives.” It didn’t make the beet-givers any more trustworthy, and they all knew it. There were a lot of motivations for keeping them alive that weren’t in their best interests. They could think something in their bags was valuable and be using them as mules, like Carol had said. They could want to steal Lori’s baby. They could want to keep the women as sex slaves, or all of them as labor-slaves. They could be planning to use them as bait. They could be sadists who get off on raising false hopes. Hell, Rick had even heard stories about some cannibals, which, after the gnawing hunger of the last few days, he was a little more inclined to believe. But those weren’t the thoughts his group needed to hear right now. “We may be looking at future trading partners.”

“There’s safety in numbers; they may want us to join them.” Glenn suggested, picking up on the deliberate optimism.

“Or maybe they saw that mom’s pregnant, and wanted to protect her.”

“Maybe they’ve got a place they need more help to clear out.” T-Dog offered, an idea Rick hadn’t really thought of but thought had a lot of merit. “If it’s a pharmacy, that could explain why they’re willing to give up food for it.”

“Maybe they just hate beets.” Maggie said with a smile, causing several of them the snort and laugh. They were immediately shushed, but the conversation took a silly turn after that, everyone attempting to outdo the last person with the most ridiculous explanation for giving them food, including such absurdities as time-traveling future selves and the Midas touch but with beets.  

After a while, the flow of conversation stopped, so Carol asked, “If their intentions are good, why all the secrecy? They could have led us here themselves.”

“We probably outnumber them.” Rick concluded that that was the most likely option. “And they don’t know us. They might have been worried that we’d just kill them and take their food.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We wait for them to make the next move.” Rick answered his wife, resting a calming hand on her shoulder. “And if it’s threatening, we defend ourselves.”


	4. Spam and Dicks

It was either very late at night or very early in the morning when Rick woke up with a start from a kick to his boot. He sat up immediately, hand already grabbing his gun, and looked up at T-Dog, who extended a hand and pulled him to his feet. He hadn’t woken everyone, so Rick thought it probably wasn’t an emergency and tucked his gun into his pants.

T-Dog took him back to where he’d been standing guard and gestured for him to look through one of the holes. Rick did, though he wasn’t sure what he was looking for or at. It was too dark to make out much of anything. “See that form outside the door?” 

Rick shifted until he could find the proper angle and then he saw it. “Never seen a Walker crouch before.” Crawl, kneel, yes, crouch, no.

“So, probably not a Walker. It’s gotta be our beet giver, right?” T-Dog whispered. “Do we go out there? Talk to them? ”

Rick shook his head. “Not unless they come into the building. We don’t know who, what or how many are out there. I want the element of surprise, and we’re not going to get it here.” Rick and T-Dog stood for several minutes. T-Dog had taken up another spot to look out, but Rick wasn’t even sure if he could see the figure. After a few minutes, the shadow stood and walked out of their field of vision.  There was no question it had been a living person, probably a man. “We’ll give it a while, wait until it’s fully daylight and then see if we can figure out what they were doing out there.” Rick glanced over at T-Dog, who was watching him. “You think I’m being overly cautious?” 

“I don’t know that there’s such a thing anymore.” The black man shrugged and turned around, leaning his back against the mail slots because Rick had already taken over the watch. He didn’t expect their leader to go back to bed after seeing a stranger so close to their group. “Thing is, I’m more scared of running into people these days than the Walkers. There’s no telling what a person will do when they’re desperate enough. Lie, steal… murder.” T-Dog paused for a long minute before turning to face him again. “But we don’t. That’s not us. We only hurt people to defend ourselves. And if we can survive like that, then others can too. I have to believe that there are more decent people out there, that we haven’t lost all our humanity.”

“I hope you’re right.” Rick nodded. “But I’m going to plan on you being wrong.”

T-Dog smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch for now.”

T-Dog acquiesced easily, crawling into his bedroll and falling asleep almost instantly. Rick turned back to watch the outside door. He didn’t expect to see anything else for the rest of the night, and he didn’t. It took about an hour for the sun to start to come up and another before it was bright outside. Nearly everyone was awake by this point, except Carl who would always sleep in until the last minute if ever there was opportunity and T-Dog who was probably still tired from getting stuck with guard duty in the middle of the night.

Rick let the group at large know about the figure they’d spotted last night, then had Carol take over the watch. He took Glenn and Maggie out to check the front door, having Maggie stay by the open interior door to defend it if necessary. Examining the front door, it became immediately obvious what the figure had been doing there the night before. A small pile of canned goods was heaped just to the right of the glass. 

“Bed and breakfast.” Glenn murmured, cocking a half smile at the leader.

“Keep your guard up.” Rick demanded, diligently examining the area before even opening the door. A warm breeze blew in, and he fought the urge to relax. There were no Walkers visible around them, probably gone after a couple hours as Hershel had suggested, and no sign of people either. After ensuring that there were no traps on or around the food, Glenn and Rick scooped up the load and brought it inside, dumping it on the sorting table while Maggie slid the table back in front of their door. It wasn’t as big of a haul as they’d been given the day before, but enough for all of them to feel like they’d eaten. Rick decided to keep the tuna in his bag for later and splurged with the Twinkies, which earned grins all around.

“I think I should scout the area.” Glenn suggested after everyone had finished. “Maybe if we’re lucky I can find a running car with some gas, and we can get out of town.”

The thought had definitely occurred to Rick, to leave town as soon as possible, preferably in a vehicle, but they needed to restock on some supplies, especially food, before they moved on. They would need to stay put for a couple days lest they get caught between towns with no food again. “You’re not going out there by yourself.” Rick said firmly. “Not when we know there are others nearby.”

Part of him wanted to take the whole group out with him to keep them together, but that would expose everyone, and Lori was less and less able to run these days and Carl should be staying off his foot as well. He would have to split them up. Lori and Carl would have to stay in the building where it was most secure. Someone would have to stay with them as a last defense, preferably someone tactical and good at fighting. Beth could go either way. She wasn’t any kind of fighter, but she made a good look-out and was very fast. 

“We have no idea what’s out there.” Glenn argued. “We need some intel before we can do anything.” 

“All the more reason for you not to be by yourself.” Maggie retorted, staring Glenn down. 

“The building has a flat roof, doesn’t it?” T-Dog interrupted before a lover’s quarrel could start in the middle of their nest. “Means there should be roof access somewhere in the building, I’m guessing in the back intake room.” 

“Good point.” Rick nodded, standing back up as a plan formed in his mind. “That’s probably a lot less dangerous and should give us an idea of what we’re looking at.”

Again, he took Glenn out the back barricade, leaving Maggie to guard the doorway while they looked through the room a bit more thoroughly. It had a garage or warehouse quality to its construction with a wide open center space, a wide metal rolling back door which was closed, and large metal racks lining the walls. Most of them were covered in boxes or bags. There were a few tools that could be useful, but mostly it was just a memorial to a dead era. There was a door in the far corner which opened up to a stairwell. Any question about its use was erased as the sign next to it read ‘Roof Access’. 

Once he was sure there was no immediate threat, Rick called back to Maggie in a stage whisper. “We’re going up. Get T-Dog and Hershel and go through these boxes. There could be things we could use.” 

Maggie nodded, and Rick and Glenn waited until she’d reappeared in the doorway before moving onto the stairs. There were no Walkers in the stairwell, nor were there any about when they reached the roof, their caution apparently unwarranted. Either their beet-giving, shelter-finding friends had been very thorough or they were lucky. 

Glenn nudged him and pointed to a ladder that would bring them to the roof of the adjacent building that butted up against theirs. That building had two stories and would give them a better vantage point. He nodded and they both climbed up to the next level. There were no Walkers up there either, though he suspected that the sound of the roof door opening would have drawn them in already anyway. At the front of the building, they crouched down and surveyed the town. 

It was a small town center with a few shops and community buildings running mostly along their current street and surrounded by a bunch of residential houses. All of the buildings were three stories or less. He could see a school a few blocks away with is rectangular format and wide parking lot. There was also a rather elaborate sandstone church nearby. He couldn’t see any Walkers around. They had likely been picked up by the herd and followed them out of town, but the buildings could just as easily be filled with them. 

“Look at that.” Glenn said, pointing almost directly below them and drawing his eyes to the street in front of the Post Office. He saw immediately what had caught the Korean’s eye. Two large black arrows had been drawn going in opposite directions in front of their safehouse. Looking along the road, he could see that two paths had been created with arrows, one led a few blocks away to what looked like a store, and the other twisted around behind them. At the start of the path was a tin can. “I’m guessing those are beets.” Glenn grinned.

“Marking it so we know it’s from them.” Rick hazarded. “Hand me the binoculars.” They only had one pair and they had been cracked and broken, but the left side still worked pretty well. He traced the first path towards the store. “Convenience store. Looks like the windows and doors are broken up, but there might be food that got overlooked. No sign of Walkers or people.” 

He handed the binoculars back to Glenn who took his turn examining the area. “Are we going over there?”

Rick nodded. “But I need you to stay here and guard my family. Carl is injured and Lori won’t get far in her state.” Glenn agreed with a frown on his face. He could see the logic in leaving him to be defense, but his heart was telling him not to stay behind. “You guys will appear the softer target, so I need someone here who can handle it if they go after you.”

Rick took back the binoculars and followed the trail in the other direction. He lost sight of it behind some buildings, but was able to pick it back up further along. They walked towards the back of the building to get a better view. There was a small shopping mall situated at the edge of town. Malls were usually a no-go for their group. There were too many people clustered in a small space with little reward for their efforts. The design also gave infinite places for Walkers to be hiding. However, the beets had yet to steer them wrong. The mall was small, five or six shops, and they all appeared as accessible from the outside as well as the main internal drag. Most importantly, he could see among the clothes suppliers and hair salon a Dick’s Sporting Goods. That itself was worth at least checking out. There could be guns, ammo, hiking boots, camping gear, tents, canteens, backpacks, knives, binoculars, rope, flashlights, lanterns… It was a gold mine if they could get in. “There’s a Dick’s.” He couldn’t tell the state of the store from this distance, but he wasn’t prepared to let it go without getting a closer look. 

Taking the binoculars, Glenn looked at the shop himself. “If we can find a working vehicle, some gas, we could stockpile some supplies. We’d be in better shape than before we abandoned our cars.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

Glenn started back down the ladder and waited at the foot. “If there’s useful stuff in there, why lead us to it? Why not take it for themselves?” 

“My best guess is that it’s overrun, maybe too many Walkers for them to take on.”

Glenn stopped him before they entered the stairwell. “And if we take them on, we’re painting a target on our backs. What’s to stop them from killing us and taking the guns once we’ve handled the Walkers?”

“Well, by that point, we’ll have the guns AND outnumber them.” Rick rubbed his eyebrow. “I’m not saying it won’t be a risk, but I think if we’re careful and smart, we can do this.”

“I want to go with you.” 

“I need you here.”

Glenn chomped down on whatever it was he wanted to say and stormed down the stairs angrily. Rick followed him at a slower pace, giving Glenn time to cool off. Maggie was waiting by the door again and closed it behind them before stacking everything back into their barricade. 

There were a few finds the boxes, including some tools, knives and bedding, which had been spread around on the floor to make a more comfortable sleeping area for them. If they didn’t find a working car, they’d leave it behind. They’d also found several food items including fruitcake that was, apparently, still edible, cookies which had grown mold on them, a glass jar of honey and a glass jar of jam, which were airtight and probably still good. There was also a twenty-four can case of spam which had been packaged with a handwritten note that simply said, ‘fuck you.’ That sounded about right. The most exciting thing was a package of four walkie talkies. They were made for children, and the distance was only two miles on them, but that would be sufficient to allow him to tell Glenn if they’d walked into a trap.

“Still have those batteries, Carol?

Carol fished around in her bag before returning with a fistfull of small batteries. He sorted out the AA batteries and handed her back the rest. They’d found them still sealed in a store, so they should work. The six batteries would be enough to power three of them. While he opened up the toys and set them up, Rick outlined what they’d seen on the roof and they made plans to check out the convenience store first. It was probably less dangerous and, although no one said the words, would hopefully provide food for Carl, Lori, and Glenn to survive on should the other adventure prove to be a trap. 

“We still don’t know what we’re dealing with, so everyone needs to stay on their guard. Keep your guns and knives out at all times. I know most of you are out of ammo, but they don’t know that. We need to appear large in number, threatening and capable. So, Lori and Carl are going to stay here with Glenn and everyone else is coming with me.”

No one complained about the unusual arrangement as they emptied a few bags for their supply run, despite that he knew Carol and Beth would have preferred to stay and Glenn and Carl would have rather gone. Glenn had said his piece and accepted the decision. No one really argued with him anymore unless they felt like he’d been missing information when he made his decisions. He didn’t care for the dictator role, but he knew that it was for the best to have a very clear authority organization in times of crisis, and their whole lives had turned into a time of crisis.


	5. The Origin of the Beets

T-Dog was given point while Maggie was assigned to watch their backs, which left Rick with enough leeway to analyze the situation as they moved towards the convenience store. He checked in with Glenn over the walkie talkie and was pleased to find that they worked with minimal garbling of voices. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think this was a trap. Whatever the motivation, he thought that they were genuinely being helped. Still, they couldn’t afford to bank on the kindness of strangers.

The store was mostly dark inside, which was not ideal, but there was no movement within, nor from any of the surrounding streets. But it wasn’t the Walkers he was afraid of here. Across the street was an alley with a metal sliding staircase leading up to a couple platforms which looked to serve as emergency exits for the two story building beside it. Rick clanked his gun against the metal of the ladder, the sound echoing louder than intended, but serving its purpose. They waited to see if anything was within earshot. A corpse came to bang on the window of a different building, but everything else was still.

“Alright. Beth, get to the top of the ladder and act as lookout.” Rick ordered, handing the last walkie-talkie to the girl. “Hershel and Carol, you’ll wait by the door in case anyone shows up, but be alert in case a Walker slips by us. Maggie, you, me, and T-Dog are going in.” 

They only had three flashlights anyway, and one of them was already on the fritz. The store was not very large, but the aisles and dim lighting made things low to the ground a serious danger. Rick noted a charcoal x on the front door that was barely hanging on its last hinge. He thought it probably meant either they’d arrived or that the place had been cleared already, but decided against telling anyone. It was better if they stayed alert and prepared for the worst. There was no shuffling, no snarling, and no attack. They swept the place and found nothing but a small pile of three corpses lying by the register, each with a jagged knife hole in the head. 

There wasn’t much food left on the shelves, but Rick was pleased to find a small stash of chips that had been overlooked as well as a six pack of soda. He piled the canned goods that were left over into his bag and then moved behind the register. A few candy bars had escaped notice, and he picked those up and added them to his bag. 

“Over here.” Maggie said, wiggling her light so that they could see her direction. She was in the back of the store where the light from outside didn’t reach at all. She’d opened the storage room, and when Rick met up with her, he saw that most of the raiders hadn’t bothered to check this far back. There were several boxes filled with canned beans, soups, vegetables and fruits. And a stack of four boxes of beets, one of which had been cracked open and was nearly empty. “I’m guessing we found the origin of the beets.”

They hauled all of the boxes out to the front of the store and stacked them up on the porch. It was a very good find, and hard to believe that whoever was helping them hadn’t kept the boxes for themselves. Of course, maybe this was what was left and the find had been even better.

“Are we taking the cat food?” T-Dog asked. Nobody wanted to eat that stuff, but between the cat food, spam and the boxes on the porch, they might even have enough to last them an entire month of proper eating for a change.

Rick smiled. “Waste not, want not.”

They filled their bags until they were stuffed and carried the rest back in their boxes. Rick felt a little guilty being the only one not strapped down with a box or two in addition to his bag, but someone needed to be free to move and shoot if necessary, and he had the best aim. He tried to keep his concentration sharp as he took up position in the rear to guard his people, but it was hard not to let his mind wander.

Pack mules suddenly seemed very unlikely, even if that’s exactly what they were doing at the moment. He also didn’t think they’d be given this much freedom if they’d planned on trying to take them as slaves. His thoughts kept coming back to Dick’s. There had to be something in there that their saviors wanted enough to go through all this extra effort. But they also had to know that they would scavenge everything of value in that place if they cleared it out, and despite his assurances to Glenn, he was torn whether or not they should make the attempt. Maybe he could compromise and make a big show of leaving some of the good stuff behind so it didn’t seem like they were competition for the minimal supplies.

Beth huffed and tore him out of his thoughts, setting down her boxes and stretching her back. Everyone halted and ultimately joined her in the unprompted break. “Look, I’m sorry, but this is stupid. I’m tired and these boxes are heavy. Could we at least CHECK and see if one of those cars works? We’re going to need one anyway.”

Rick followed her finger to the alleyway across the street which had three vehicles parked in it. “Yeah, let’s check them out.” The ex-sheriff agreed, realizing that they didn’t need to push harder than necessary. They were relatively safe, they had some food and they should save their energy for the inevitable need to run for their lives later. 

Rick tried getting one to start by hotwiring it, wishing people had been just a little less cautious as the world was ending. He’d learned the hotwiring trick from T-Dog who was diligently working on another car beside him. T-Dog had demonstrated the ability on the highway outside of Atlanta after a lengthy rant about stereotypes and a detailed explanation of how he’d come across the knowledge which had something to do with a kleptomaniac neighbor and an ongoing issue of missing keys. Rick had zero inclination to question further or judge him; he was just grateful as the skill had saved their bacon more than once already. 

Carol and Maggie had gone to the third, and it was to some happy hooting that they located the keys within the dashboard after working the back door open and found that the van started on the fifth try. T-Dog looked at him and shrugged, giving up on his unsuccessful attempts with a shrug. “Third time’s the charm.”

Quickly, they loaded up their loot and siphoned off some gas and drove the rest of the way to the Post Office. Glenn let them in before they had a chance to use their walkie talkies, and they brought in the goods with them. 

By then it was lunch time, and they celebrated their good fortune with beans and fruit and portions that were too large to be sustainable. Carl pulled out a book of jokes that Glenn had found for him tucked away in the workspace and started in on sharing the ones he’d identified as the best. Before, they would have mostly been groaners, but everyone was eager to laugh today and enjoy their luck while it lasted.


	6. The Beet-Giver

The van halted in front of Dick’s Sporting Goods with just a slight squeal to the breaks, and Rick stepped outside into the new snow and immediately scoped the area for Walkers and living alike. Seeing none, he turned back to the group. “Is everyone clear on their roles?” He asked for at least the third time. It had started snowing the day before so the scouting trip to Dick’s had been the extent of it, even though Rick had already made up his mind to chance the store. The sudden late-winter storm had probably been a blessing in disguise, though, because it’d given them time to determine a proper plan to clear the building. Glenn had wiggled his way into this mission as the self-proclaimed and ill-refuted fastest, which left T-Dog back at their base camp. Rick shivered in his coat and was thankful that they’d found shelter before the chill air crept in. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of being forced to sleep on the frozen forest floor with minimal gear.

There were some nods of agreements, so Rick took it on faith that the plan was clear and reasonable and tried to quell the jittery nervousness that was working its way through his system. As a group, they walked around to the edge of the building where a dumpster was braced and waited as Beth climbed up the side. Maggie joined her on the dumpster and helped give her a boost as Beth scrabbled for handholds in the wall and on the piping. After a couple minutes, the youngest member of their group made it safely to the roof. She looked around and give a thumbs up sign, then reached out to grab the blankets and rope Maggie threw up for her. 

They waited until Beth returned and signalled.

“What have you got it tied to?” Rick asked into the walkie talkie, partly to keep his voice low and partly to double check they were working. 

“Pipe.” Beth responded. “Looks pretty secure, didn’t budge when I yanked.”

“What’s the roof access look like?” 

“There’s a door, but it’s locked.”

“You’ll have to keep an eye on that.” Rick responded, wishing he were up there to see the situation for himself. 

“I will.” Carol replied as Maggie helped her onto the dumpster and she grabbed hold of the rope. “Beth will keep look-out, and I’ll watch the door.” 

Rick nodded and watched as Carol made her way up the wall, bracing her feet against the side of the building and clutching the rope. She was more agile than he’d expected and made it to the top quickly. Once there, she gave a thumbs up signal as well and the rest of them trooped around to the entrance of the building. 

“Remember, guns are a last resort. It’s nearly a straight-shot to the gate and once that’s closed, we pull back to this door. No more risks than we have to today.” Rick handed his walkie to Hershel who would be staying closest to the entrance. Rick would have the most dangerous spot in the center while Maggie would follow Glenn all the way to the gate to keep the Walkers off him while he shut it. 

While they waited, Rick contemplated if it wouldn’t have been better to just use the original strategy of attracting them to the main entrance and taking them out one at a time. It would be the safer option, right until the force of all those bodies broke through the glass and overran the parking lot. They couldn’t really know how many were deeper in the mall, but if the gate connecting the store to the main drag of the building was closed, they could probably handle however many were currently drifting around the store. Still, making this run was risky, too, and he hated putting his adoptive family in danger.

The music started up at the far end of the building. That was their cue. It wasn’t as loud as he’d hoped and sort of echoed outdoors so that it wasn’t as clearly from the opposite direction as he’d expected, but several of the Walkers within the building were already making their way towards it, and that was as good a sign as any. After a minute, it was clear that the mass had lessened, and Rick decided to go in. 

The ex-sheriff led the charge, machete drawn and seeing plenty of action as he mowed down the remaining Walkers standing in their way. Maggie and Glenn didn’t wait for him once it was clear he had a handle on the situation, just pressed forward to get the gate shut as quickly as possible. It was important that they get that finished before- 

The music cut out. Rick cursed. The batteries had probably died. Glenn kept running. Maggie grunted and chased after him. They took down a couple more Walkers as they hurdled towards the metal divider. 

Glenn dove for the handle, nearly getting bit in the process, but snapped his hand back in time. Rick reached for his gun. Soon enough, the herd would all be back, attracted by the noise, and it wouldn’t make a difference if he fired. 

“Rick!” Hershel shouted behind him. 

Rick turned and stabbed the Walker that was uncomfortably close to him, and swung back around to watch Glenn struggling with the gate. Maggie was batting at them like wild. The large mass of bodies that had reacted to the music was nearly upon them. Rick raised his gun.

The gate slammed shut and latched. Glenn tested to make sure it was secure and then he was running back with his girlfriend straight for Rick. Rick let them pass him and covered their backs as they all piled out of the building, shutting the door behind them. They eased around the corner before panting for breath. Glenn was grinning. Maggie looked annoyed with him, but not so annoyed that she didn’t yank him into a kiss. 

“Daddy?” The walkie talkie crackled. 

“We’re okay. We’re all okay.” Hershel assured Beth. “The gate’s closed, too.”

“We got scared when the music cut out so quick.” 

“Us too.” Rick responded, taking the communicator. “But we’re good. Keep up your lookout, and stay warm.” 

The adrenaline made Rick want to go back in and keep fighting, but they would stick to the plan. Wait at least thirty minutes, so that there weren’t so many pressed against the divider or glass than need be. It would be preferable if they went back to their base and waited a full day instead, but there was no way he was going to leave the place unguarded and empty-handed while another group watched and waited nearby after they were the ones risking their lives in there. They shared two cans of beets while they waited in the van, except for killing a couple Walkers that stumbled their way from down the street, Beth warning them long before their arrival. He was glad for the van even more than when they first found it, all of them unwilling to stand against the windchill any longer than absolutely necessary, and hoped Beth and Carol were warm enough on the roof. 

“Everyone ready?” Rick asked, though this task was the easier of the two. He received nods, so he checked in with Beth and Carol as he stretched and loosened his limbs.

“We’re still alone, as far as we’ve seen. Also, we’re still cold.”

“Noted. We’ll make this as quick as we can.” 

Hershel and Glenn manned the doors to keep the flow of Walkers to one at a time while Maggie and Rick took them out silently. The effort was probably more than needed as there appeared to only be a few left in the store still moving, most of them beyond the gate or lying dead where they’d hacked their way down the aisle previously. Still, Rick wasn’t about to let his guard down. Once they deemed it safe enough, he still broke them into two teams and swept every aisle to make sure they were alone. They met back in the center in front of the main entrance.

“Alright, collect everything that you think could possibly be useful and bring it back here to decide on. We’re going to have to compromise on some things for space, and I intend to leave a decent sized pile behind to keep our benefactors happy. Stay alert in case we’ve missed a threat.”

Two hours later, they were finished. Everything they were liable to use had been picked through carefully and the van was practically bursting with goods. They’d taken several guns and every bit of ammo they could find, but the rest was easy enough to compromise on. There wasn’t a point in loading up everything that could potentially have use when there was a substantial chance that sooner or later they’d be back down to just taking what they could carry. 

When the last of it was stuffed in, Rick checked in with T-Dog and his family once more before surveying the van. “Looks like we’ve overfilled our ride.” Rick commented when they were done, casually, but clearly and slightly louder than before. “Half of us are going to have to walk back.”

The disappointed groans sounded entirely genuine, and he figured that even if they’d already known that this was the plan, it wouldn’t be fun to be reminded of a lengthy stay out in the freezing weather. 

“Shotgun.” Maggie called with a smile that said she’d gotten away with something, even if Rick had suggested she go back with them from the start. Splitting up was yet another risk and made them even more vulnerable, but he was bound and determined to make contact with whoever had kept them from dying in the woods a few days ago. Hopefully none of their three groups would look overly vulnerable and attract an attack. 

“Alright. Hershel, you take Maggie and Beth back with you. Since you don’t have to walk, you guys get to unload our new gear. Glenn, Carol, let’s get going.”

Rick led his group down a block before gesturing to a car and announcing that they’d try and get it running. Glenn went under the hood, Rick went into the driver’s seat and Carol climbed the ladder at the side of the building to get to the roof where she could circle back hopefully unnoticed and keep a lookout. 

Rick dallied long after Glenn gave up trying to make it work from his limited mechanical experience gleaned from Dale and Jim and sat down in the passenger seat. They waited.

And waited.

Glenn ran out of things to say after about an hour, and Rick tried not to make his relief at the silence too obvious. He was glad Carol had a blanket with her because he wasn’t sure how much coverage would be on the roof to keep her warm.

“Someone’s coming.” The walkie talkie chimed.

“Just one?” Glenn asked into their shared device.

“Yeah. Hard to make out with all the extra layers we’re all wearing, but definitely not a Walker. Probably male? He’s heading straight for Dick’s.”

“Keep us posted.” Rick said as he gestured for Glenn to follow him. They hugged the buildings but kept up a brisk jog on their way back. 

Carol interrupted again, her voice low. “He’s just gone inside.”

“And you’re sure there’s no one else around.”

“Positive.”

Rick glanced at Glenn, who shrugged. There could be a lot of reasons he was alone. They could even be using their strategy of walkie talkies for all he knew. Or maybe there was just one beet-giver in the first place. He’d assumed more because traveling alone was dangerous, but that didn’t mean there were more. 

“Okay, stay out of sight and when I’ve got him distracted, you’ll circle around and flank him.”

When they entered the building, Glenn immediately ducked down and shifted behind a shelf while Rick scanned the area. The beet-giver had obviously been by and picked through the pile; Rick noticed several valuables that he’d hesitated over leaving had been removed, but the man was not at the pile any longer. He couldn’t think of anything in the store that they would have overlooked, but he supposed it would pay to be thorough. He drew his gun, and kept it at the ready, but pointed downward as he stood in front of the exit and cut off the only escape route. Carol would let him know if anyone was sneaking up on him from outside, so he just had to wait.

Not two minutes later, a form covered in mismatched, bulky winter clothes turned the corner and halted. In an instant, a tray of arrows clattered to the ground and the man had a crossbow raised, loaded and aimed at him. Rick kept his weapon ready but pointed downward. 

“I take it you’re one of our beet-givers.” 

The man just grunted. Rick looked him over. He was nearly as tall as Rick with a confident readied stance that spoke more of experience than any formal training. His outfit was a hodge-podge of different motifs, starring a thick poncho that he was practically drowning in, what looked like an oversized leather biker vest beneath, and a large fur lined army green hat. 

Rick cocked his head and looked at the stranger and down to the bolts scattered around his feet. He wondered if those were what this whole hullabaloo was all about. He remembered in the woods, the Walker taken down by the creek appeared to be killed with an arrow, but every Walker they’d found since had been knifed. A crossbow was a good weapon: ranged, but quiet, with ammo that could be reused many times before it broke or got lost. And the speed at which the beet-giver had readied the weapon suggested more than a passing familiarity. On the other hand, the one he was carrying was well-used but obviously too heavy, if the slight shaking in his arms was anything to go by. Rick probably didn’t have much to do but wait and their standoff would be over.

“I wanted to say how much we appreciated it.”

The stranger tugged down the poncho until it was no longer covering the bottom half of his face so his words and thick country drawl could be heard. “Hell of a way of showin’ it.” He growled. “Cornerin’ me in the store I showed ya, and sendin’ yer chink to sneak up on me.”

Rick realized several things all at once and tried not to let the surprise show on his face. One, their good samaritan was a racist asshole who may or may not have helped them for the sole purpose of restocking his own supplies. Two, the slender man in front of him was actually a kid, and not in the same way he called Glenn a kid, but a bonafide teenager, lanky likely because he’d only really started growing. He couldn’t be more than a couple years older than Carl, but definitely a teenager, if the scowl was anything to go by. And three, the stubborn boy could very well shoot him on accident with the way his arms were becoming increasingly shaky under the strain of keeping up the oversized weapon.

“I’m Korean.” Glenn declared from behind the stranger, his own gun raised. “And I need you to put the crossbow down now.”

The teenager sighed and let the bow swing downward, annoyed but in no way surprised by Glenn’s sudden appearance behind him. He spat on the ground when Glenn took away his weapon, but didn’t resist. Rick wasn’t even sure how he’d known about Glenn’s movements. “Fine. What you want from me?”

“Why’d you help us?” Rick asked. 

“Couldn’t clear this place my damn self, could I?”

Rick nodded as if he accepted the answer, but he was more sure than ever that his first instinct was right and this teenager was a part of a group, and what their intentions were was still a mystery. It was dangerous to travel by yourself and nearly impossible for a kid to survive without any help, but coupled with traveling the woods at night, he couldn’t fathom it. “You by yourself, then?”

“What’s it to you?”

“If you’re by yourself, well, that’s awfully dangerous, I’ll have to insist you stay with us, at least while we’re here.”

The boy glowered at him, narrowing his eyes like he could already sense the trap coming. “And if I’m with a group?”

“Then it’s a group we don’t know, and we’ll need you to stay with us to discourage any sort of attack.”

Snorting and gnashing his teeth, the kid looked at him with even more disgust. “The hell? This how y’all repay people for savin’ yer ass?” He stomped his foot like the child he was and clenched his fists like he wanted to throw a punch. He eyed Rick for a second like he was debating if it was worth the risk to hit him, but ultimately just crossed his arms over his chest, and made a face that was dangerously close to pouting. “Y’all don’ like beets or somethin’? I’d’a given ya some of my jerky, but didn’ think ya’d risk eatin’ it.”

“Relax. We just need a day to sort ourselves out and find another working vehicle. We’ll be leaving at dawn the day after tomorrow and then you’ll be free to carry on.”

“You don’ believe I’m by myself.” The kid declared. “Ya wanna keep me hostage so’s the group I don’t have won’t attack ya ‘til y’all get out of dodge.”

Rick shrugged, but didn’t deny the accusation. “No way you could’ve done all those things by yourself.”

“Jus’ cuz you ain’t able to survive on yer own don’t mean I ain’t.”

Rick smiled tightly and gestured for him to exit the building first. The teenager sighed. He knelt and collected up the bolts, squeezing them into the edge of his full bag with a bunch of others and slinging it over his shoulder. Rick radioed Carol to come down and meet them. The stranger was nothing but silent, angry scowls as they started the walk back, even as Carol and Glenn made some vague attempts towards gaining his attention and engaging in conversation, but Rick wasn’t about to complain so long as the kid was compliant. He figured it would be okay if they got the cold shoulder for the next 35 hours or so, and the newcomer seemed inclined to give them exactly that.

“Merle Dixon.” Until Glenn read the name etched into the side of the crossbow. “That you?”

The kid’s head snapped to attention, and he eyed Glenn suspiciously before shaking his head slowly. “Nah. S’my brother. I’m Daryl.”


	7. Daryl Dixon

“Don’t suppose y’all would let me jus’ leave town.” Daryl grumbled after a set of awkward introductions and two more blocks of walking in silence. 

“Don’t suppose we would.” Rick responded. His gut told him to trust Daryl, but his head insisted that he couldn’t have survived on his own for long. He knew there was more going on than met the eye, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down until he sorted out what that was.

Rick turned to the newly dubbed Daryl who was walking at his right and a step or two behind him when he stumbled slightly. He couldn’t see over what, but there was enough litter beneath the snow to make that a likely culprit. 

“You hurt?” Carol asked, probably due to mother instincts slipping in before she could think better of them. 

Daryl grunted. “Fine.” But he’d stopped walking at the edge of an intersection and forced them all to stop with him or start with manhandling or threats. “I weren’t even supposed ta be here. Was gonna leave days ago, but tha’ stupid herd put me right back where I started. An’ y’all took forever clearin’ out that place.”

“Could have been faster if you’d helped instead of watched.” Glenn commented under his breath, but Daryl obviously heard and spun to glare at him. Rick raised a hand to stop them both. There was no sense getting baited by a kid.

“It’s one more day. Then we’ll go, and you can do whatever you want.”

“There’s a good four hours of daylight left.”

“Looks like.”

“So you can go in the mornin’.”

“We still need another working vehicle.”

Daryl kicked at the snow. “Suppose I got one fer ya. You’d leave in the mornin’?”

Rick glanced at Glenn and Carol whose expressions didn’t give him much to go on and debated his options. He’d be lying if he said he extra day wasn’t at least partly stalling for time. It didn’t matter if Daryl was capable, he didn’t want to leave a kid behind without knowing for sure that he had someone to look after him, especially a kid that had saved all of their lives.  And he couldn’t help but think that he obviously had some skills that could keep his own people alive. On the other hand, getting out of town and away from the thumb of a mystery group as soon as possible sounded perfect to his survival instincts. “Yeah.”

Nodding, Daryl turned at the intersection, away from their original route and towards an area they hadn’t had a chance to scout out yet. Rick glanced behind him to make sure his team was armed and ready and then followed. Daryl had armed himself with a large Buck knife, which he was holding at the ready, but Rick didn’t take it away from their pseudo prisoner since he was leading the way.

It wasn’t more than a few blocks before the boy led them to an inconspicuous house that looked to be half boarded up. There was a rusty white and brown pick-up truck parked in the driveway that straddled the line of old enough to be built to last and overused and falling apart. A motorcycle was loaded up in the bed. “That one there.” Daryl nodded at the vehicle and lowered his weapon upon seeing the area clear. “You can have the truck, but the bike stays with me.”

Rick raised a skeptical brow. “It runs?”

“Yeah. Just gotta grab the keys.”

If there was going to be a trap, this was probably where it would be, but his instincts told him that Daryl was being at least mostly forthright and just wanted to get out of town as soon as possible, so he nodded anyway. Besides, if he had a group, and it wasn’t capable enough to clear Dick’s, he doubted Daryl would have been stupid enough to lead Rick’s group straight to them.

The house had clearly been a family residence, and Rick briefly wondered if it was Daryl’s home prior to the outbreak before dismissing the idea. It spoke of a sentimentality that didn’t make a whole lot of sense with the kid’s eagerness to leave. The floor plan was open, but a barricade had been half-assed separating the living room and kitchen from the rest of the house and making use of the boarded windows. Daryl had obviously been there a few days, if the hanging meat strips were anything to go by, which only served to hammer home how valuable an asset he could be. His mouth watered.

Still, it didn’t pay to lose sight of safety, so he had Carol stay with Daryl while he and Glenn quickly swept the house for any surprises. Rick heard Carol openly praising the boy for his hunting skills before he left the room. Daryl shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and muttered something that sounded like ‘weren’t nothin’.’

By the time Rick returned to the living room, Carol was munching on a strip of dried meat and talking with Daryl about naturally occurring seasonings in the area. Daryl wasn’t saying much as he chewed, but his body language had relaxed dramatically. Rick quirked an eyebrow at the woman as if to say, ‘how’d you manage that so quickly?’ Carol just smiled at him and held out a strip of what might have been venison. It was bland, somewhat burnt and too salty, but Rick was never going to complain about meat again. Daryl allowed her to offer a third piece towards Glenn while packing up his stuff. Combined with the loot he’d grabbed from the store, he now had two sizeable bags to carry. 

“Ready?” 

Daryl nodded as he led them back out to the vehicle. He dropped his second bag in the truck bed and then lifted the hood. Rick figured he was probably reconnecting the battery. It was a smart move to keep the car more effort than it was worth, but not exactly a wise decision for a hasty exit. 

Daryl and Carol hopped into the truck bed for the short drive back to the Post Office, which was undoubtedly an unpleasant trip if the way they were shivering was anything to go by. Daryl immediately went to take his bike down, but Rick waved him off, citing that they could take it down in the morning, and it would be easier when they were warm and rested. It’s not like it was taking up the entire space, at any rate.

Rick introduced Daryl as a big fan of beets and that he would stay with them for the evening. The sheriff was pulled into a hug with his son and then his wife who both looked a bit too interested in Daryl’s presence, in Rick’s opinion. “How’d things go here?”

“No problems.” Hershel reported. “We reorganized everything while you were gone and loaded our bags and the van with our most useful items, but we’re going to need another vehicle, if not for the rest of this stuff, then so we can all fit.”

“We’ve got it covered now. We should load up the rest of our stuff so we can leave at first light.” 

“Daryl’s been exceptionally helpful.” Carol added in a pleasant sort of tone that he hadn’t heard in months. She didn’t elaborate or qualify the statement in any way. Rick didn’t either, though he felt the urge to point out that the kid was also a pain in the ass. Daryl just snorted. 

Rick quickly revised his opinion after Daryl donated a hefty portion of his jerky towards their dinner and didn’t accept any food in return, even if his language was insulting. “Nah. I can get more meat, but y’all ain’t got nothin’ ‘sides them cans. ‘S like y’all don’ know the first thing ‘bout survivin’. Seen Biters hunt better’n you. Quieter, too.”

His unfriendly words and icy demeanor did not stop Carl from trying to reach out and befriend the kid, which was simultaneously endearing and painful to watch. Daryl didn’t say one word to the other boy and just looked increasingly pained with the mounting pile of questions being dumped on him as he worked in the very edge of the room nearest the door to clean up one of the squirrels that had been tied to his bag, backs against the wall and winter gear mostly discarded. His face suggested that he’d prefer waterboarding to social interactions, but he kept trying to smooth it down into something neutral. 

Rick didn’t rescue him from the exchange, but he did watch him like a hawk because Carl was close enough that Daryl could hurt him before any one of them could do something to stop him. It wouldn’t do him any favors to try, but Rick thought it was a testament to the weird level of confidence he had with the stranger that he didn’t protest. Lori was watching them too, but she just looked mildly pleased with the whole situation. Rick couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just the pregnancy hormones talking, but she was eying the kid like she wanted to mother him. She knew that if he stuck around, it’d only be a few days before she demanded to trim his unruly mop of a hair-growth. 

“Talented kid, huh?”

“We’d be a lot better off with someone like him, but I’m still pretty sure he has to have someone watching his back. Hell, I wouldn’t have survived on my own if not for the help from Morgan and Glenn.”

Carol picked up the meat from Daryl’s pile and agreed to see that it was cooked properly. Daryl cleaned off his knife on his pants and tucked it away. Carl had been playing with the string from the squirrel line and, to his surprise and delight, Daryl took it from him and wordlessly started demonstrating some knots. Carl seemed pleased enough to stop with the endless chatter and concentrated on the task. Either Carl was desperately terrible (which didn’t seem likely from the glee on his face) or they were practicing slip-knots. 

But now it was too quiet to feel comfortable carrying on a conversation about Daryl with him sitting a few feet away, so Rick just moved on to the next task. He left Daryl and Carl where they were under Lori’s watchful gaze, left Carol to her cooking and Maggie to keep watch and began loading up the truck with everyone else. The blankets would get piled in in the morning after they’d moved the bike. At the moment, he was looking forward to cuddling up under several of them and feeling warm for the first time that day.

Rick trudged back in and sat in his bedroll. It was still pretty early, but perhaps he could just go to sleep right then. Everyone could use some extra sleep after that exhausting day. He was debating whether he should put Daryl in a separate room to sleep or not when he heard Carl talking to him again.

“You know smoking is bad for you. You can get lung cancer.” 

Rick sighed and rolled over and yup, the kid had pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and was working on getting one ready.

“Don’t reckon’ I’ll live long enough to have to worry ‘bout that.”

“Still, we know it’s bad for babies and pregnant women. You’ll have to take it outside.” Rick intervened before Carl could contemplate the merits of that philosophical position too deeply. 

“You’re gonna let me go by myself?” Daryl asked in a tone that Rick felt was probably more scathing than he deserved.

“T-Dog, go with him.” T-Dog looked anything but thrilled at the suggestion but didn’t protest as he followed the hunter out through the lobby. 

Rick draped an arm over his eyes to block out the waning light and sighed.

“Don’t see why he needs an escort if he was wandering the woods at night keeping an eye on us just a couple days ago.” Lori commented in a low volume as she sat down pressed against his side. It wasn’t so much of a judgement as an inquiry. “Thought you’d want to talk to all of us about the new arrangement.”

“There is no new arrangement. Daryl doesn’t want to stay with us. He’s planning to leave first thing in the morning.”

“What?”

“You’re joking.”

Rick didn’t get a chance to respond or explain because there was a commotion drawing his attention back to the main entrance. The barricade was down while T-Dog took Daryl out for a smoke and the possibility of a threat inside had Rick on his feet in an instant and charging for the door, Maggie and Glenn a step behind him. 

He wasn’t all that surprised to find that it was just Daryl tussling with T-Dog and squirming to get away from his strong grip. He drew his knife and took a swing as T-Dog leapt backwards to avoid it. 

One hand went to the gun tucked in his pants while the other one raised up in a calming gesture. “Jesus, kid, relax.”

T-Dog took the opportunity and distraction to knock the knife away from Daryl and grab hold of his arm before he could dive down to retrieve it. Glenn circled around to pick it up and get the weapon out of the fray.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me, ya filthy n-” 

“Enough!” Rick roared, freezing all action immediately. He took several steps closer and made sure he had Daryl’s undivided attention. He was shaking a little. Good. A little fear might help drive home his point. “Look here, Daryl, things are different now. Whatever dumb-as-shit, inbred white-trash fool coached you on how to see others, they were wrong then, and it’s going to get you killed now. There’s just dark meat and white meat. Us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart. I’d like to have a calm discussion here, think we can manage that?”

Daryl looked flushed and furious and spat on the ground in front of T-Dog’s feet, but he nodded once at Rick, and he supposed that would have to be good enough. T-Dog let go at his signal and scooted back several steps, but stayed between the teenager and the door.

“Now what the hell happened?”

“I saw that he was bleeding, and he’s been sweating even without any layers, though it’s cold as balls out there, so I asked if he was bit.” Rick had noticed the sweating alternating with some shivering, but he’d mostly ignored it as circumstantial. It hadn’t been smart, and he could kick himself for letting that sort of thing slide. Maybe he’d just wanted to believe Daryl when he said he wasn’t bit earlier.

“I ain’t!” Daryl interrupted emphatically. 

“So I said we’d need to check out the blood on his back to be sure, and he just flipped out on me.”

Daryl just crossed his arms, so Rick raised his eyebrows at him. “We’re going to need to take a look at that.” 

“No.” The archer stated flatly. “I ain’t bit.”

“Even so, it sounds like an infection. You die from that, and you’ll still turn.” Rick ignored the way the idea of it twisted in his gut. Daryl wasn’t part of his group and the growing attachment wasn’t warranted. “Hershel’s a doctor. He can look you over.”

There was a long, tense moment. Rick was sure Daryl was going to tell him to go fuck himself or at least attempt to renegotiate and try to get away from their group, but he surprised them all with a quick, tight nod. “Just him, yeah?”

“Just him and me.” Rick wanted to know what the kid was hiding, and he wasn’t prepared to let Daryl in a room alone with Hershel after that violent display in front. He was just preparing to make that second argument when Daryl surprisingly relented. 

Glenn discreetly put the knife away instead of handing it back as Maggie fetched her father. T-Dog reset the barricade. The boy’s face was utterly blank as he followed Rick into the break room with Hershel, turned around to face the closed door and unceremoniously removed his vest and ratty flannel shirt. 

Rick bit his cheek and clenched his fists to squelch the impulsive reactions to the sight before him. He wanted to gasp and rest his hand over the damage. He wanted to swear and demand answers. He wanted to track someone down and beat them to death with his bare hands. Hershel didn’t react obviously, either, except to say, “Well, it’s not a bite.”

Mangled was the only term that really came to Rick’s head. Criss-crossed bleeding, inflamed and pus-filled wounds littered Daryl’s back with older scars visible beneath and in the spaces. The marks were too wide for a whip, even if that was Rick’s immediate assumption, so he revised the idea to probably a belt. His eyes naturally skittered down the boy’s back to his wrists because no one could simply take a beating like that without a hell of a struggle, and sure enough, fading abrasions circled his wrists as well. 

Working so many years as a cop for a small town meant that while he’d seen some terrible things, the really horrific occurrences generally happened outside his jurisdiction and in major cities. So this was, by far, the worst case of child abuse he’d ever witnessed, though he’d heard of these sort of horror stories from older coworkers and worst-case scenario training videos. His mind immediately raced through the situation and took stock of the evidence and relevant consequences.

This wasn’t a one-off: the older scars indicated that Daryl had been dealing with this problem for years. Which in turn suggested someone who had regular access to him and a close enough relationship to enact this sort of physical violence, most likely a close male relative, possibly his father or his older brother he’d mentioned. It also meant a certain degree of isolation or neglect for this level of abuse to go unreported, so there wasn’t a positive presence in his life to counteract this sort of damage psychologically, either.

Daryl had been wearing a backpack most of the day, which had to have been terribly painful and probably making his problem worse while he was at it. It also meant he had been bound and determined to keep it a secret, perhaps out of distrust or maybe it was misplaced shame. 

Carol had likely recognized the issue, subconsciously or otherwise, and could empathize in one way or another. And his position of authority would undoubtedly have the boy leary and distrustful, as if the whole world wasn’t cause enough of that attitude already. 

It also explained his solitude in a way that finally relieved the warring between Rick’s head and his gut. He’d run away. He’d left the quasi safety of his family after a particularly brutal beating and was trying to get away from his home turf where he’d be more likely to be tracked down. He had all those skills to keep himself alive because he’d been inadvertently trained in survival for years prior to the outbreak. He knew the town because it was somewhere close to where he’d lived before and/or after, but not so close that he’d hauled ass the instant the option was available. 

“-to clean it. With any luck, his body will do the rest and clear the infection without having to chase down some antibiotics.” Hershel was saying, finally pulling Rick out of his own head with his even, paced timbre. Rick could hear the tension underneath the calm clear as day, but it was surprisingly well masked for the sort of fury that had to be whirling around inside of him. 

Rick’s brain stuttered to life and he slowly nodded. “I’ll get some supplies.” Daryl was watching him cautiously out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to determine what the other shoe was and when it was going to drop, and he tried not to let the nausea show as he nodded briefly and hurried out of the room.

“Daryl’s not bit, is he?” Carl pounced as soon as he came into the room, fear for the friend that he didn’t really know and didn’t really seem to like him etched onto his face.

“No, he’s not.” Rick assured as he sifted through their belongings and wished he’d packed so he didn’t have to hunt for first aid and extra bandages. He accepted Lori’s help in collecting the supplies and accepted the bottle of vodka Maggie had appropriated from somewhere as a make-shift cleaning agent and resisted the urge to break into the stuff himself.

“You look rattled.” Lori commented quietly before he could make his way back across the hall. 

Rick glanced around. He couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t be overheard, which had pretty much become the norm over the last few months. There were no more secrets, so he might as well say it up front. “He took quite a beating. Ain’t the first one, either. I don’t think we want to run into his folks.”

Lori nodded slowly and let go of his shoulder after a brief squeeze. He wasn’t sure how much she would read between the lines or how many people could hear his response, but he hoped Carl couldn’t piece together the extent of the issue.

Daryl wasn’t looking at him when he entered, even if he was purposely facing the door, shoulders and arms so tense that it had to hurt. Hershel was working behind him with the sort of gentle touch Rick knew was his go-to, but Daryl was still trying hard to squash his flinches. Hershel accepted the supplies with thanks, and Rick settled in to the side, leaning against the wall just in Daryl’s vision and tried to ignore his paternal instincts.

“Will he need antibiotics?”

“Probably.” Hershel responded, ignoring how the boy sucked in a pained breath and let out an uncomfortable grunt from time to time. “It wasn’t treated or covered properly. It’s definitely a bad sign that he’s running a fever, but between a thorough cleaning and the fever reducers we do have, we may be able to dodge the need for antibiotics we don’t have. It’ll really depend on how he looks in the morning.”

“We can do a run to the pharmacy in the morning before we leave, in any case. There are plenty of supplies I’d like to have more of.”

“Don’ bother.” Daryl interrupted. “It’s empty. Not so much as an advil left there.”

Of course the kid had already made the attempt. He had good survival instincts, after all. “Just the one pharmacy?”

“Yeah.” Daryl grunted, caught off guard by the sudden burn Hershel’s efforts brought. He took a deep, steadying breath. “That an’ a small section at the grocer’s, but I’m sure ya noticed there weren’t nothin’ there, either.” 

Hershel started to thread a needle. Rick wondered if the wound had been bad enough to warrant the extra support the whole time or if being left untended had made it substantially worse. The vet warned Daryl about what he was going to do, but the teenager simply grunted and nodded. Rick expected a howl of pain to arrive following the cavalier attitude, but Daryl simply gritted his teeth. The sheriff had a bad feeling that he’d already been on the receiving end of unanesthetized stitches a time or two before. 

“With any luck, you won’t need them.” Rick responded, already thinking about where else they might look. Going house to house was less than ideal and rarely very productive, but there were probably some squirreled away at someone’s house. And that option had the benefit of a semi-secure location for his family instead of wandering into the unknown in hopes of locating another pharmacy that hadn’t been completely looted. 

The treatment carried on in silence for a while until Hershel set down the needle, carefully dabbed at his work and then proceeded to add the bandages. “All right. Try not to exert yourself any more than absolutely necessary. Obviously, you shouldn’t sleep on your back, and you need to avoid carrying or putting things on it for a while. We do not want to prolong this injury any more.”

Daryl nodded and scooted off of the table he was sitting on. He reached for his shirt before Hershel scolded him. “Fresh, clean shirt.” He insisted. “You should throw that one away.”

“Uh.” Daryl fidgeted. 

Clean was a relative and generally uninteresting concept these days, but there had been a decent clothing section at Dick’s, so Rick fetched one of the new ones he’d grabbed for himself from the other room and handed it over. The boy got it on carefully before adding his vest and following Rick back to the other room.

If Daryl was defensive and reclusive before, he pulled in on himself completely as he wrapped himself in a cocoon of blankets and tucked himself into a corner for the rest of the evening. He pretended not to notice the way Rick instructed everyone to check in on him in case he got worse in the night and Rick, in turn, pretended not to notice how he’d hidden yet another knife on his person and was keeping it tucked under his pillow now. 


	8. The Art of Trying (And Failing) to Not Give a Shit

“We both know you need antibiotics. Now, let me take a look at your back and see if there’s anything else to be done.”

In the early morning, Rick woke up the sounds of a quiet argument between Hershel and Daryl over checking out his wounds. He vaguely recalled dreaming about a case he once worked involving neglect and suspected child abuse molding into his overactive imagination recreating the sort of scenario that might have caused the marks on Daryl’s back. “Ain’t gotta do nothin’ of the sort. I ain’t yer problem.”

Daryl was not doing any better. If anything, he was doing worse, and it was made abundantly clear from the way he was shaking and sweating already. Hershel settled for crudely checking his temperature with a hand against his forehead and diligently ignored the glare he received in return.

Hershel passed off a few pills that Daryl thankfully took without protest. He didn’t need to see the label to know that the vet was trying to bring down the fever with the resources they did have.

“Can he get by without the antibiotics?” Rick asked as he pulled on his boots and got ready for the day.

Hershel frowned. “Not for long.”

Standing, Rick glanced over his shoulder where just about everyone was awake and listening in on the conversation. That behavior was certainly not helping with Daryl’s temper. “You up for a run, Glenn?”

“I’m coming, too.” Maggie insisted.

Rick nodded, already expecting that response, but Daryl was pushing himself to his feet and adamantly protesting.

“Nah, I already told ya, there’s nothin’ at the pharmacy.”

“We’ll just have to look other places.” Maggie commented in a voice that was obviously meant to be soothing but just seemed to piss Daryl off more.

“Nah, I ain’t stayin’.” The teen insisted, picking up his bag and shouldering it exactly as he’d been advised against. “You said I’d be free to go come mornin’ if I helped ya find a vehicle, so I’m outta here. 'Less yer not gonna keep yer word.”

“That’s a terrible idea. Stay here until the infection is taken care of.”

Daryl stepped closer. “You gonna stop me?”

Rick paused then shook his head. Confronting him here and now wasn’t going to solve anything. Daryl shifted through the group and straight out the door without even a backward glance. The table shifted in the hallway and then the outer door closed behind him.

Turning around, Rick was met with a half dozen looks of condemnation or disbelief. “You just let him walk out of here?” Maggie asked, “After finding out that the infection is worse?”

Rick frowned. He felt bad enough about the situation; did they not believe he’d already spent considerable time on the issue? “We don’t really know him; we don’t know that we can even trust him. Hell, even if we can trust him, we don’t _have_ antibiotics to give him, so we’re looking at a time-bomb who could turn while we’re asleep.”

Lori interrupted before an argument could brew. “We owe it to him to at least try after he saved all our lives in the woods.”

“You asked if I thought you were being overly cautious before. I want to change my answer.” T-Dog said with a pained smile. Rick knew he must be seriously off track if everyone had decided that it was time to step in.  He rubbed his forehead where a headache had already started.

“Thought you of all people would be happy to see him go.”

“Because he’s a racist? You said it yourself. Some asshole coached him to say that sort of shit. I’m not going to condemn a kid for being raised wrong, even if it does piss me off.”

“You all want to trust him that much? Being a kid these days doesn’t make a person any less dangerous. If anything, they’re more. And more importantly, he clearly doesn’t want to.” Rick wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince them or himself.

“Rick, he’s just a kid. And one that’s been beaten badly, at that. He needs help, even if he doesn’t know it.” Lori put in softly.

“What do you want me to do? Tie him to a chair?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Hershel said. “You let him leave here sick as he is with no one to go to, you’re as good as killing him yourself.”

“Dad, he’s one of us. Can’t you tell?”

Rick sighed. Whatever weird sort of attachment he’d developed over a few hours to the irascible kid was apparently contagious. “Carol, you’ve got rapport, you go after him.”

“It’s not _my_ approval he’s seeking here.”

An engine started outside. “Shit.” Rick grunted before dashing outside. He heard several people follow, but he was in too much of a rush to see who was behind him. Daryl was astride his bike, but it was still balanced in the truck bed, and he’d found some wood to create a ramp to ride down. It must have taken several minutes, but he was now ready to take off. “Wait!” Rick called as he scurried down the steps and clambered into the truck. “Hold on.”

Daryl sat back a bit, but he didn’t let go of the handlebars or turn off the engine. “You got something you want to tell me, Rick Grimes?” He emphasized his name like it was some kind of curse.

“We want you to stay with us. The infection is getting worse, and you shouldn’t be on your own. You need antibiotics.”

“Don’t see how it makes a difference. I ain’t got any. You don’t either.”

“I’ll find you some.”

Daryl snorted and revved his engine. Rick was glad for the rumbling to cover the sound of their conversation from the rest of the group, even if the noise was an open invitation to Walkers and probably done specifically to annoy. “Rather take my chances on my own.”

“Can’t be sure how long before that fever makes you delusional or causes your organs to start shutting down, and you can’t even function, can’t protect yourself. You go off by yourself and you’re signing your own death warrant. You helped us, let us help you.” Daryl didn’t respond, so Rick kept pushing. “Look, I get that you don’t trust us but the worst we can do to you is kill you, right?  And your death is already going to happen if you leave. Stay, and you have a chance of beating this thing, of surviving.”

“You’re wrong.” The boy glared coldly up at him, enunciating clearly for the first time since they’d met. “There are worse things you can do than kill me.”

Rick licked his lips and frowned. Kids weren’t supposed to know that. He racked his brain. Daryl was going to leave, and he either didn’t see how much better his chances of survival were with them or he was blatantly ignoring it. But why would he be so insistent on getting away if it would make it harder for him? Except… that’s what he’d done this whole time, wasn’t it? Instead of getting back to town and securing himself when he saw the herd, he stuck around to lead their group to safety, too, supplying them with food and water and taking care of them. He’d cleared out a place for them to stay without any intent to stay there himself.  He’d said he wanted their help clearing out Dick’s but he hadn’t even been planning to stay in town until the herd redirected him, so that wasn’t true. So, they’d cleared out Dick’s primarily for themselves and Daryl had just taken what was useful and left over. He left them food, for god’s sake, like that wasn’t the sort of commodity that people bled and died for these days. And it was a stockpile that could keep him alive for months on his own.

This grouchy, standoffish, foul-mouthed, insulting teenager actually cared about his group, his pregnant wife and kid and the friends that had become his own family, enough to put himself at risk to keep them safe. And he was trying to do it again.

Rick stepped in front of the motorcycle before Daryl could take off down the ramp and he halted awkwardly, glaring up at him, and for the first time, Rick thought he could really see the vulnerability and compassion that Daryl was trying so hard to hide. Maybe that was how Carol had barreled through the kid’s defenses so quickly. “Okay, you don’t need us. Hell, maybe you _could_ find a way to get antibiotics yourself in the next couple hours, but who knows if we’d ever find you again. And the truth is that we need _you_. We have no idea what we’re doing in the woods; we were literally starving to death before you stumbled on us. Half my people can’t fight. You obviously have a good eye for places that are worth looting. I’ve only known you a couple hours and already I can see how valuable you are. I want you to stay. I need you to stay.”

Daryl searched his face with a skeptical expression before turning off his engine with a slow, cautious finality. “You think ya can fix me ‘fore I turn an’ wipe out yer crew?” 

“I promise you that I will find you those antibiotics. And if you still die, I promise to put you down before you hurt anyone.” Rick pleaded with his eyes and silently committed himself to not  overlook how secretly kind and self-sacrificing the teenager was ever again.

Slowly, Daryl nodded. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sort of took me by surprise. I needed Rick and Daryl to really transition over into being actual friends and the animosity had sort of been dragging on for while now, but it came out sort of funny. Rick finally drops his suspicious attitude and comes to the conclusion that Daryl operates primarily altruistically, even if he's not willing to admit to it. Which is basically how I see him in cannon. For example, helping Dwight before and after he screws him over... several times.


	9. Racing the Clock

It was like accepting Rick’s help had released every bit of sheer determination that had been keeping the boy upright and on the move. He finally caved to how terrible he must be feeling and even accepted the supportive grip on his upper arm while he teetered and struggled to get out of the truck. 

“Shouldn’t stay in town.” Daryl mumbled as they made their way back inside. He was radiating heat like he’d been working in the sun all summer and not sitting outside in the snow. Rick fretted as he handed him back into Hershel’s care in the make-shift infirmary that had once been a break-room.

“I’m gonna take care of everything.” He assured. “I just need you to trust me and let Hershel look after you.” For once, Daryl accepted the order and sat heavily on the table and removed his shirt so the old man could peek under his bandages. Rick turned his attention to Hershel. “Don’t leave him unattended. If you need to sleep or take a break, get someone in here who will be able to put him down if he turns. I also need you to write up a list of anything potentially useful for him. Carol’s got some first-aid experience, and Maggie knows enough from you to get by, but I don’t want to risk missing something we could substitute in.”

Rick didn’t wait for a response, just turned quickly to meet up with everyone else in the sorting room. He didn’t want to waste a minute. He handed a walkie to T-Dog and another to Glenn, tucking the third in his belt-loop. “Okay, so it looks like we’ll be stuck here a couple more days until Daryl is mobile again. T-Dog, you and Lori are going to need to make this place as defensible as possible. Bring the weapons and ammo inside and set up some proper barricades. Glenn, Maggie, Carol and I are going on a run for antibiotics. Check in every hour or so.”

“What can I do?” Carl asked, not wanting to be useless with all the action going on. 

“You and Beth can take turns keeping watch on the roof. You won’t need to stay up there long, just take note if there’s a herd coming or if you see signs of another group, like cars moving in the street. And don’t overwork your ankle; it’s still healing.”

“Here.” Lori handed him some of Daryl’s jerky, a handful that was obviously meant to be shared. “At least eat something on your way. No telling how long you’ll be out.”

Rick gave her a kiss on the cheek as he accepted the strips and grabbed an extra gun as they hurried from the building. Hershel was in the hallway with a list ready to go, most of which seemed to be word roots or suffixes rather than specifics, but he figured broadening their approach could only be helpful. He didn’t know how much time they had before Daryl succumbed to the infection, but he could practically hear the clock ticking. 

“We’ll check the pharmacy out first. Daryl said it was cleared, but he might not have known exactly what to look for or may have overlooked something.”

Everyone agreed and walked and chewed in silence. It was a little warmer than the day before, which made the outdoor excursion less brutal, but still snowy enough to guarantee soggy and uncomfortable shoes. The pharmacy was a few blocks away, but not so far that he wanted to mess with the vehicles or use up whatever gas they had, even if time was of the essence. They all knew they were unlikely to hit paydirt at the store and would most likely spend the day checking buildings anyway.

“Had to have been a pretty bad beating to lead to this sort of infection.”

Rick glanced over at Glenn. He knew he was curious and fishing for answers to the questions they all had to have. Rick hadn’t exactly been explicit with any of the details he knew or the details he’d extrapolated, but those were Daryl’s secrets that he obviously wanted to keep hidden.  “Hard to keep anything clean these days; doesn’t take much to get an infection.” Glenn deflated at being stonewalled. Rick sighed. “But yeah. It was bad.”

“He say who did it?” Glenn hedged in a way that reminded the former cop of his son.

“Not exactly the talkative type.” The only real way to confirm was to ask him, but he was relieved that none of his companions seemed likely to make the attempt. The fact of the matter was that he was removed from the situation and couldn’t be hurt again. It was more than some child abuse victims got even before the world ended. Rehashing it would only bring up pain and fear. The best thing they could do for him would be to show him that not everyone was out to hurt and betray him.

“Guess it explains the beets.” Maggie commented idly.

Rick turned in surprise. “It does?”

“Well, sure. He’s got more reason than most to avoid strangers; he was just trying to protect himself by staying away from people. I think he’s secretly a teddy bear.”

“Wouldn’t suggest saying that to his face.” Rick advised.

“You mean that isn’t how you got him to stay?” Carol asked with her head cocked to the side. Rick looked her over in an attempt to determine if it was a joke or not. He had no clue. He supposed he sort of had gotten Daryl to stay by acknowledging his softer side in his desire to protect others. 

“Guns up.” Rick instructed instead of responding, as they arrived in front of the store. “We’ll sweep and then see if we can find anything on the list.”

His diligence proved useless. The store was small and surprisingly well lit from the large front windows and small high ones along the sides. Once they’d spread to look down each of the four aisles, it was clear that the store had been thoroughly looted. There were no Walkers or even bodies lying around. Almost nothing remained on the shelves. They swept it anyway to confirm, but there wasn’t so much as a single pill bottle to be found in the entire place. There were a few non-medicine items strewn about, including a pair of gloves that Carol added over the pair she was wearing and a few boxes of bandaids that Rick pocketed.

“Dammit.” Rick grunted, slamming his fist against the check-out counter. “I thought there’d be at least something we could use.”

“More bandages and antiseptic at least.” Carol said, dropping several boxes into her bag and swinging it back over her shoulder.

“Who clears out every single medication and passes on bandages and antiseptic?” Maggie asked, eying the empty shelves.

“Prioritizing space, I guess.” Glenn hazarded. 

Rick considered it unlikely that they would take cough medicine but not want to clean their wounds. Shit. Cough medicine. Completely cleared out. “Don’t think they’re taking it for medicine.”

Glenn looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Who wants to risk getting high in the apocalypse? Wasting medicine like that?”

“It’s probably a more attractive prospect than ever.” Carol commented. “But it might not even be about getting high. Drugs don’t lose their value when the world ends, they get more valuable, and no one’s making more advil.”

“More importantly, how thorough were they? Do you think there might be supplies left over in people’s houses?” Maggie asked.

“I hope so.”

They spent most of the rest of the day working in two teams and hoping to find something useable left behind in the surrounding houses. Aside from a growing pile of food which would have thrilled Rick a few days ago, there was little worth picking up. Every single bathroom cabinet had been ransacked to the point that Rick contemplated not even checking them. Most of their finds were from people who kept bottles stowed away in cupboards or in the fridge. Still, there wasn’t much Rick or Carol found throughout the afternoon aside from a few over the counter pain relievers and a couple prescription drugs Rick had never heard of. They checked in with Glenn and Maggie every once in a while, but they weren’t doing much better. They’d found one bottle that would have been perfect if there had been more than a single expired pill inside.

“Rick, I think you’d better head back.” Lori’s voice came over the walkie talkie. 

“We don’t have anything yet.” Rick responded, trying not to let the defeat sound in his voice. 

“He just had a seizure. We can’t get his fever down and he’s been shouting nonsense at us.”

“We’re on our way.” 

Rick regretted not taking a vehicle when they stepped into the cold air and agreed to jog back to the Post Office. Maggie was waiting for them by the door to let them in, obviously having beaten them back at the call. Glenn and T-Dog and Hershel were struggling with a thrashing Daryl who was balanced precariously on the edge of the table. He was too weak to be much of a threat, but trying to keep him still without hurting him was proving to be a challenge. Carol unloaded the medicine they’d found beside the others and then dropped her bag off in the other room. 

Hershel reported in without prompting that he’d been getting steadily worse all day, and been shouting obscenities at them for the last hour. This time, it seemed to be because he didn’t recognize them. “Keeps shouting for Merle, too. At this point, I don’t know if he’ll make it long enough for any of these to take effect, even if I could get him to swallow them. His temperature is dangerously high.”

“Daryl, it’s Rick. Can you hear me?”

“No, no, no! Jus’ leave me alone!” Daryl shook his head furiously, shaking and clawing at anyone who got near him. He clearly was not in his right state of mind, unable to tell where he was or who he was with. “Merle!”

Was Merle the hero or the villain in Daryl’s story? Was he trying to get away from him or begging for help? Rick sighed, hoping he wasn’t about to make things worse. He gripped the boy’s shoulder and gestured for everyone else to step back. “Daryl, it’s me, Merle.”

“Merle?” Daryl asked, staring up at Rick like he just couldn’t tell who he was, face and neck flushed red and sweaty with fever. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Daryl practically leapt into Rick’s arms, latching his arms around his neck like a monkey and yanking him closer. “Help me! I’m dying. They’re killing me!” He looked suspiciously over his shoulder at everyone else.

“I’ve got you.” Rick assured him, sliding an arm under his knees and lifting him bodily from the table.  He spoke over the shoulder shaking in front of him. “I’m going to take him outside. See if we can drop his temperature.”

Hershel nodded, so Rick figured his pseudo ice-bath idea was good enough. T-Dog hopped in front of him to help him with the doors, which Rick was grateful for. Daryl was lanky, but he wasn’t particularly light. He was, at least, well fed. 

Laying him down on the cold, snowy cement at the top of the stairs, the teen immediately protested and shivered. “‘S cold, Merle.”

“I know. You gotta do it anyway.” Daryl shivered again and tried to pull himself up anyway, but Rick held him down easily in his weakened state. 

“Get him to swallow these.” Hershel instructed, handing off four pills. 

Rick coaxed him with his newfound authority as Daryl’s brother and got him to swallow the medicine before he passed out. It was tough to watch him struggling in his sleep with rattling breath for twenty or so minutes before Hershel let him come back inside. 

They got him situated back in the infirmary where the adults met together to discuss. He looked a little less flushed and was sleeping semi-peacefully.

“The antibiotic should help, but those are supposed to run a course of ten days, with a minimum of five to clear the infection. Hopefully it will at least buy us some time.”

Rick explained his suspicions of a drug cartel and the systematic clearing of medications. “I’m afraid there aren’t any antibiotics to be found in this town. Is it safe to move him?”

Hershel sighed. “I’d rather not, if it can be helped, but I don’t see that we have a lot of options.”

“Then we’ll just have to get lucky here. We’ll check a few places towards the edge of town that might have been too out of the way to bother with.” Rick decided. 

“Could be worth looking at the school.” Lori suggested. “They don’t keep much, but the nurse’s station usually has something.”

“Some people keep medications in their car, especially if they’re planning to leave for a while.” T-Dog added.

“All right.” Rick nodded at the group surrounding him and was thankful that they were in this together. “Lori, I want you to take the watch tonight with Carl and Beth. T-Dog, you can trade off with Hershel in here. The rest of us are going to get as much sleep as possible so we can head out just as soon as it starts getting light. I’m not sure we’ll have another day to get lucky.”


	10. Getting Lucky

Rick clamped his hand over Carol’s mouth when her gasp came out a little too loud at the sudden thump of a body landing in front of them. They were huddled beneath a queen sized bed waiting out the group that had joined them in the house they were searching. The man gasped for breath under his companion’s grip and even started gesturing to notify him of their presence in the terrible hiding place they’d chosen. This was not the sort of luck he’d been hoping for today.  At last, the man on the ground was unconscious and the other flopped down heavily on the mattress above, the prize he’d been willing to strangle his acquaintance for. Rick gestured for Carol to stay put. They could shoot the man napping obliviously above them, but there were at least five other equally morally questionable men outside of the room that would be on them before they could get away. 

Slowly, Rick removed his hand from over Carol’s mouth and tried not to be reminded of Lori keeping her silent as she watched her daughter struggle to get away from a stray Walker. Carol had changed, grown and hardened a lot since then, and given their lifestyle, that could only be for the better, but no one wanted to be reminded of that day. Now, though, Carol was quietly attuned to what she needed to do to survive, and Rick was endlessly thankful for the changes. She’d learned to handle a gun, better than anyone besides him, he figured. She’d learned to expect the worst and grimly reminded everyone that the worst was a bit lower than they were inclined to contemplate. She’d learned caution over emotion and so he knew that she would wait there all day completely still and silent if that was what gave them the best chance of walking out of there, even if she desperately wanted to find medicine for Daryl. They’d be no use to him at all if they were dead.

Daryl was at least lucid that morning and the fever had mostly abated, soothing away the fears that he’d die in the night, but he was still weak and fragile in a way that ill-suited him. Rick knew it was just a matter of time before the infection got the better of him again, so he’d been banking on some sort of miracle as he dragged Carol to the very edge of town and took off down a lengthy driveway. Glenn and Maggie had already declared the school a dead end and had moved on to checking cars in the time it took them to finish sweeping the first house.  They were just about to head out when they spotted a group of rough-and-tumble making their way to the front door.

“Don’t know what the fuck we’re doing here. Ain’t like they’d’a left nothin’ this close for us to find.” The slender man with a crossbow complained from his place on the bed. Rick thought his name might have been called Len.

“Saw the Dick’s din’t ya?” Another man commented outside the doorway, apparently unperturbed by the body lying on the ground. “You can restock for yer precious crossbow.”

“Don’t be such a dumbass. I’ve got no plans for a suicide run into a mall.”

“Quit yer yappin’. We’re just gonna take a quick look ‘round town and find a nice place to stash the goods, just in case Dixon tries to pull a fast one on us.” Joe quelled the argument from halfway down the stairs. He seemed to be the leader and somewhat smarter than the others. Rick silently begged for him to stay downstairs. If he came up and looked at the right angle, they’d be clear as day where they were. He didn’t. Carol glanced over at him; there was no way she’d missed the name drop. 

“Don’t see why we’re still dealing with that ass, anyhow.”

“I’d rather deal with someone who’s an ass upfront than that snake-in-the-grass Governor.” Joe grunted, unperturbed by the men questioning his decisions. “Now, anyone who wants can stay here, but you won’t be able to claim anything good we find.”

Rick couldn’t be sure how many of the men left, but a good ten minutes had passed in silence and the man on the mattress was snoring, so he decided it was best to slip out before the other guy woke up and sounded the alarm to their presence. They both slid out from their hiding place and cautiously looked around before tiptoeing into the hallway and toward the stairs. “We sneak out the back, get into the treeline and radio the others so they know what’s coming. I imagine these are the ‘shoot first’ sort of people.”

“Wait.” Carol shook her head. “They’ve got a stash. Probably medication. We need to find it while they’re out of the house. This may be our only chance to save Daryl.”

Rick frowned. It was dangerous, but she was right. They probably did have something they could use. Something that they were trying to trade with a Dixon. No way that was a coincidence. “All right. But we’ve got to be fast. There’s no telling how long they’ll be asleep or the rest will be gone.”

Carol nodded quickly and they both began checking rooms as quietly as they could manage. He lost sight of her and tried not to panic. It was too quiet in the house for there to be others, right? 

Nearly as soon as he thought it, he found himself face to face with another one of Joe’s group. The man was sitting on the toilet with a book in his lap and was staring at him with wide-eyed shock. He opened his mouth. Rick dove for him.

The tussle was a brief, adrenaline fueled attack. Rick didn’t dare go for his gun and the man wasn’t wearing his weapon, and it wasn’t long before Rick had gained the upper hand. Blood was pumping in his ears. It wasn’t just his life at stake if he lost; Carol could get killed and Daryl wouldn’t get the medicine he needed. When his vision cleared and his breathing had finally slowed, the man was lying awkwardly on the floor in front of him, and Rick had no idea if he was dead or unconscious. 

The door creaked slightly and Rick was on his feet with his gun drawn between one breath and the next. He relaxed upon seeing Carol. The woman looked between him and the man on the floor but said nothing at all about it. “Found it. Let’s go.”

Rick nodded and followed her out into the hallway and down the stairs. They cautiously scanned the open living room before dashing out the back door, jogging until they hit the woods. Once they were out of sight, Carol swung her rifle around onto her back and snapped open the bag. It was quite the stash of medical goods, including at least three kinds of antibiotics that Rick could see. He sighed in relief, and pulled out his walkie.

“Hey, let Hershel know we’ve found something. We’re heading back know. Keep everyone close. We’ll want to haul ass just as soon as we get there. There’s other people in town, and I don’t think we want them knowing where we are.”

“Understood.” T-Dog’s voice came in a little garbled, probably because they were pushing the range of the kids’ toy. “He’s a little nervous about moving Daryl in this state.”

“He’s doing worse?” 

“Basically a slow decline since you left. But I don’t imagine we’ve got many options.”

“We’ll hurry.” Rick promised, already moving to catch up to Carol who was taking long strides through the snow to put some distance between them and the house since their tracks would be nearly impossible to hide. “Maggie, Glenn, you copy?”

The silence sent a prickle of fear up his spine. He tried again. “Maggie? You there? Glenn?”

“Out of range?” T-Dog suggested tentatively. 

Carol looked worriedly back over her shoulder and they both instinctively picked up their pace. There were several reasons why they might not respond. He couldn’t think of any that weren’t horrible at the moment, but there were at least several horrible options to consider. He considered them at length as they hurried through the snow. “Just give them a few minutes.”

As they neared the main drag of road, the walkie came back to life, and they both froze at the recently familiar and entirely unfriendly voice, instinctively looking around and tucking up near a building to make themselves less obvious. “Seeing as how we’re hanging out in the same town now, I figured I’d be polite and introduce myself. My name’s Joe, and I’ve got your friends Maggie and Glenn here keeping me company.”

“I want to hear from them.” Rick demanded immediately. “I need to know they’re all right.”

“Don’t seem to me like you gave that sort of consideration to my people.” Joe responded, voice even and calm, but with an unmistakable edge of anger to it. “I’ve got one man strangled and turned and nearly lost two others because of it. And that’s not to mention the drugs you’ve stolen from me.”

Rick took a deep breath and gestured across the street. They’d follow one street down until they neared the Post Office. With any lucky, they wouldn’t have figured out that was their camp yet. He cursed himself for not checking for radios in the house before they left. He hadn’t counted on being discovered so quickly. “A misunderstanding that got out of hand. In any case, I’ll need to hear from my people if you’re proposing to trade them for your drugs.”

There was a snort on the walkie talkie, turned on specifically to illustrate his disdain for the answer. “Now, generally, killing one of my people would be the end of any hope we had for some sort of relationship. I’d kill these friends of yours and then I’d hunt you down and kill you, too. Then, I’d just take back what you’ve stolen.”

“So what’s different?” Rick asked, trying to keep his breathing even as they jogged down the street and not think about the danger his people had been put in. 

“You’ve got something I want more than revenge. So, here it is, my very generous, one time offer of a one-to-one trade. I want the Dixon boy and whoever it was that strangled Lou. In exchange, you get these two back unharmed. I’ll also need my stash back. That’s not negotiable.”

Rick signalled Carol to stop so they could catch their breath since it was just a few buildings down. They could cut through the alley and get back to the entrance of the Post Office. The cars were more-or-less ready to go and he could get Beth, Carl, Lori, Hershel and Daryl somewhere outside of town before their location was compromised. He’d snag T-Dog and go back for the others. “I want to hear from Maggie and Glenn before anything else. That’s not negotiable.” 

As if prepared for the request, Glenn’s voice immediately came on. “Don’t come back here, Rick. They’ve set a-” The comment was cut off with a grunt, but his point was made: they already knew where they’d set up shop. Rick looked around and spotted a ladder.

There was some shuffling and then Maggie’s voice came on succinctly. “We’re both okay.”  He could practically hear the gun pointed at Glenn’s head in the tone of her reply.

Rick carefully climbed the metal ladder up the side of a two story building, trying carefully to keep the sounds from echoing. Carol was a few rungs ahead of him. He tried stalling. “What makes you think we have the Dixon boy?” Once he reached the roof, he scurried over to the rim near the Post Office. It still looked clear. It set him more on edge than relieved the tension. Nothing seemed to be out of place or indicated anyone had been there that shouldn’t be.

“You said his name.”

“Lot of Daryls in the world.”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not becoming.” Joe said passively. “We saw his dad’s truck, and Merle’s bike.”

They crossed over three roofs before they were directly across the Post Office and could get a closer look. It didn’t help in pinpointing their location or the trap Glenn had hinted at. “All right. What do you want with him?”

“To return him to his father, of course.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart, no doubt.”

“No, I figure he’ll probably pay a pretty penny to have him back.” Rick wasn’t sure what constituted money anymore, but it did seem to be a motivating factor.

Rick wandered over to the other side of the roof and looked down. Carol pointed, but he could make out the footprints on his own. They’d come along from a different direction, and entered the building from the back, but they were settled directly across from the Post Office. He was thankful for Glenn’s warning, not expecting them to have tracked them down quite so quickly. The speed at which the whole day had unraveled was astounding. “He’s sick. It’s why we took your medicine.”

“He’s not bit, is he?” 

“No. But he’s got an infection.” 

“Then, it seems like this is a win all around. Dixon gets his kid back, Dixon jr. gets his antibiotics, you get a friend returned, and I get some supplies. What do you say?”

“You’ll give him the antibiotics?”

“Can’t ransom a corpse, walking or not.”

“T, you there?” 

T-Dog promptly responded despite having been silent while Rick had his conversation with Joe. “Yeah. Shoot.”

“Have Carl tie up Daryl’s hands and then send him out as soon as you see one of ours coming your way.”

“Are you serious?” T-Dog asked, disbelief apparent and barely holding back protests. “What the hell, man?”

“This is not a democracy. Daryl needs antibiotics. Joe has them and has no intentions of hurting him. We get our people back. It’s best for everyone.”

“Fine.” T-Dog snapped. Rick had no idea if T-Dog was really upset or simply playing it up, but the response should help make the agreement more believable.

Rick and Carol sat down near the edge of the roof to watch the exchange go down. Rick drew his gun, just in case.

“What are you planning?” Carol asked once she’d set up her own weapon.

“Right now, we can assume that Maggie and Glenn are both tied up and disarmed. We can also assume that Daryl always has at least one knife on him.”

“Which won’t help if he’s tied up.”

Rick grinned at her. “Daryl only showed Carl how to do slipknots. It’ll be a piece of cake to get loose.”

“Rick, he’s sick. I don’t know if he’ll be any help at all.”

Sighing, Rick shrugged. “I need them to think we’re going along with this. He can do it.”

Further discussion was stalled when they saw Glenn starting across the street, and Daryl making his way down the stairs. They stopped when they reached each other and talked too quietly for Rick to make out, but Daryl shook his head and was apparently insisting because they both continued on their paths. 

“You don’t have a plan, do you?” Carol asked. “You’re turning him over to make sure he gets the medicine and then you’re turning yourself over to make sure they free Maggie.”

“That’s Plan B, anyway.”

“They’ll kill you.”

The walkie talkie came back on. “Good.” Joe praised. “For a moment, I thought you were planning something stupid.”

“I’m not going to prioritize that kid I hardly know over my own people.” Rick cringed even as he was saying it, hoping that Daryl was not listening but figuring this was not his lucky day. 

“How about your own life? You were the one who killed Lou, weren’t you?”

“I was.” Rick admitted. “And I’m not going to let Maggie pay for my mistakes. I can be there in ten minutes.” 

Joe laughed in a manner that was both genuine and unsettling. “Better hurry. It’s been a while since we’ve been around such a lovely looking woman. I’ll keep them settled for ten minutes but not a second more.”

Rick clenched his fists in anger. Of course that’s why they’d made Glenn go first. He was probably sitting in the Post Office being held down by five or six people to keep him from charging back outside. “I’ll be there.” 

“So what’s Plan A?” 

Rick pointed across the alley on the far side of the building. “You in that building there acting as a sniper.”

Carol’s mouth dropped open a little. “That’s a terrible plan. I’m not sure I can do that.”

“If you’ve got something better, I’m all ears.” Rick waited several beats before continuing. “I’ve seen you shoot. You can do this. It’s not that far. You can take out one or two of them. I’ll go in with my gun and if I can manage to hold onto it, I’ll take out two myself. If we’re lucky, Daryl can manage one with his knife, too. There’s only six of them, and we don’t even know that they’re all in the building; those two we left at the house would have had a hard time beating us here. We’ve all come a long way. We can do this.”

It takes several minutes to get Carol situated with enough discretion that he doesn’t think anyone saw them. He points out her best lines of sight and then heads into the lion’s den himself. Rick waits at the cars until Maggie comes out of the building and starts towards him before moving slowly towards the doors himself. Maggie is looking at him with a cross between trepidation and faith, but doesn’t so much as slow down as they cross paths. Rick hopes the faith is deserved, and Joe doesn’t shoot him on sight.

The sight that greets him inside makes his blood boil. The group is largely dispersed casually throughout the room. Including Joe, he counts four men, which would make this feasible even without his weapons. But the part that makes him furious is that the larger man standing behind Daryl and keeping him upright seems to have a problem with roaming hands. Daryl is spitting angry, but he’s apparently too weak in his sickly state to do much about it except wriggle against the man in an attempt to get away, which only seems to be encouraging the bastard more than anything. 

“Didn’t think I’d have to specify to keep your people off the kid, too.”

Joe shrugged like the man’s behavior was perfectly normal. He drew a gun and aimed it at Rick’s head, unconcerned by the way he was staring him down. Someone else patted him down and took his gun away after tying his wrists behind his back. Rick wasn’t all that surprised. He figured that Plan B would be the more likely scenario, but he hadn’t counted on Daryl being unsafe in the hands of this group, too. 

And then things got worse as Maggie was dragged in through a side door, arms still bound behind her back and thrashing against the grip of the man holding her, making five in total and one unaccounted for. “The hell is this?” Rick demanded.

“I honestly did not think the whole hostage exchange thing was going to work on you. Murderers don’t generally have a conscience.”

“Well, I’m here.” Rick spat. “Let Maggie go.”

Joe shook his head like he was a particularly slow child. “See, I don’t take kindly to people killing my men, but more importantly, we have a code of ethics that keeps our world spinning. You don’t lie, you don’t steal, and you lay claim on what belongs to you. Now, on top of killing Lou, you’ve lied to me and stolen from me and you’ve got to be punished.”

“Then punish me and let Maggie and Daryl go.”

Joe shook his head, lowering his weapon slightly, but still keeping it close and ready. “Now, Dan there laid claim on that boy, so there ain’t a lot I can do about that. He likes them young. And I can’t just punish you; I’ve got to punish you and yours. So, I’ve got Len fetching that woman who was hiding with you under the bed. Figure she’s at least as culpable as you. She’ll have to die, too. Then we’ll use Maggie here to bring Glenn right back into our fold. Can’t see him lasting two minutes of us hurting her. That’s five of your people. Doubt you have more than six more at most, if your vehicle arrangement is anything to go by. How many of them can fight? Can shoot? We’ll take your stuff, use your women and sell your people. And after you’ve watched, I’m going to kill you.”

Rick’s eyes fell on Daryl again when he whimpered. The man’s hand was working open his pants, and Rick could feel his stomach drop out at what was happening in front of him. If Joe had his way, this man would force Daryl and then he’d be all over Carl. Rick steeled himself against the terrifying thoughts; he wasn’t going to let that happen, no matter what. But he couldn’t figure out why Daryl wasn’t doing anything about it. Had Carl not done the slipknots? Was he not carrying his knife? Had he gotten too weak from the infection? And then Daryl looked at him with pained but clear eyes, and he realized that he was waiting for the signal. Rick nodded slightly, struck by the faith his people had in him. 

Rick sprung into action, taking advantage of the slightly careless way Joe was now holding his gun and the monstrous fury that was growing inside him over the overt threats of rape and murder. He chomped down on Joe’s neck, letting go of all the anger inside of him and stunning everyone around. Daryl took his cue, yanking his hands free and stabbing the man behind him in the thigh. The teen didn’t stay to figure out what happened next, just took off running in a stumbling lope. Dan went after him. Maggie knocked her head back against the man behind her, smashing it into his nose while he was distracted and causing him to yowl in pain and anger. And then a shot rang out with the sound of shattering glass and another one of the claimers went down. 

There was one man left with a gun raised, but he stood quaking in his boots, looking at Rick like he was possessed, and maybe he was because he yanked hard at his ropes and even though he felt his thumb dislocate on his left hand, he followed through until he could separate them completely, plucked the gun from Joe’s belt before finally releasing him from his jaws and turned and fired.  

Rick stabbed the man fighting with Maggie and then cut her ropes. She was staring at him with wide, nearly frightened eyes, but she accepted the hand he used to pull her to her feet. “Get our people out here to do a sweep and make sure we’re not missing anyone. I’m going after Daryl.” 

Maggie nodded and retrieved her own walkie talkie from Joe’s body. Rick didn’t stay to see more; he raced out the door, looking every direction to find out where the sick boy was, but seeing no sign of him or his pursuer, he looked around on the ground until he found a trail of blood and started to follow it.

And then another gunshot sounded behind him, and he remembered the man Joe had sent after Carol. Cursing, Rick doubled back and went towards the most immediate distress. He prayed that Carol had been the one shooting and no one had gotten the jump on her.

Flying up the stairs, the sheriff was able to locate Carol easily as she plunged a knife into the forehead of a man lying on the ground beside her. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Carol assured. “I got him.” 

Rick didn’t have time to do so much as breathe a sigh of relief. “Meet Maggie next door. I’ve got to find Daryl before Dan gets to him.”

“I’ll go with.” Carol insisted, pulling herself to her feet and running after him. Rick didn’t protest, filled with visions of what could have happened just a couple minutes before and what would likely happen if he couldn’t find them quickly enough.


	11. Getting Lucky part two

The blood trail was somewhat sporadic. Dan had either not been struck well or he’d taken a moment to patch himself up. Rick nearly lost the trail as he ran, but thankfully the bright red showed up well against the white of the snow. A couple quick turns and they’d caught up to the man who had been limping along in his chase or perhaps running away after hearing the gunshots. 

Rick didn’t hesitate to shoot him in the head, not even feeling guilty about doing it from behind. There was a time when either of those actions would have horrified him, but there was also a time when he’d thought only an animal could bite out a human’s jugular. All he could think about was Daryl whimpering and struggling to get away as the man tried to force himself on him. Rick felt nothing but relief at his death and the knowledge that no other kid would face a similar fate at his hands.

He lowered his gun and looked around, half expecting to see Daryl leaning against a wall nearby or waiting for him under an awning. But after scouring the streets, Rick could find no trace of him. The footsteps they’d been following had apparently only belonged to Dan and now with everything mushed together, he didn’t even know where to begin his search. 

He’d stopped that group, and he’d found antibiotics and now he’d managed to lose Daryl.

“Let’s backtrack a bit.” Carol suggested, already heading back the way they came to see if she could spot where the tracks diverged. 

Rick followed her, eyes glued to the snowy street. He’d assumed that the snow would come in useful and lead them straight to their missing person, but it wasn’t as simple as that. The morning had warmed up and now that the sun was highest in the sky, the snow was mostly turning into slush. Between that and the extra tracks from Joe’s group wandering around town and Glenn and Maggie searching cars and leftover tracks from the day before, Rick wasn’t sure where to look first.

When they reached all the way back to where his people were scanning the buildings and looting corpses, staying close to the road in front of the Post Office, Rick decided it was time to recruit some help.

Carol snagged his arm before he could step further towards them, drawing him back around the corner and handing him her hat that she’s gotten wet in the slush at their feet. “You better wash up.”

“Now isn’t really the time-”

“You can’t see what you look like. They can.” Carol insisted. 

Rick worked the cloth through the drying blood on his beard and the skin of his nose and cheeks as quickly as he could and stuffed it into his pocket. Carol shrugged when he raised an eyebrow at her so he took that as good enough and trooped quickly back to his family.

“Is Daryl alright?” Lori asked the minute he’d gotten in range. 

Rick grimaced. “He ran off to avoid one of Joe’s men. We found the guy chasing him, but we couldn’t figure out where Daryl went from there. He may be too sick to make it back under his own power, so we need to locate him right away.”

“You shouldn’t have made the exchange.” T-Dog said bitterly, but he didn’t seem half as angry with Rick as expected. 

Rick imagined he had a lot more to say than that, but cut him off before he had the chance. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I was trying to do what was best for him, and I made a mistake. But all that matters now is finding him.” Whatever other reprimands had probably been heading his way were swallowed and everyone turned to him for instruction instead. “Carl, Beth, get back up to the roof and keep watch. Daryl may make it back under his own steam, and we’ll want to get him taken care of immediately. Glenn, take Maggie to the house Daryl had set up camp in before he joined us. Check the houses along the way back, too.” Rick almost cringed at his own directions, putting them both straight back out on their own after what happened just an hour or so ago.

Carol frowned. “You don’t think he made it that far, do you?”

“I’m not putting anything past that kid.” Rick assured her. “Lori, Carol and Hershel can check along this street and the next one over. He probably didn’t get far in his condition. T, you and I will run down to the convenience store where we found our food. It’s a common frame of reference and not too far away.”

When there were no immediate protests, he took off. It was silent aside from their panting as they booked it down the road. 

Daryl was not in the store. Rick kicked the wall in frustration and shuffled them back towards the group, aiming to check out several of the buildings on the way. He wiped his face again with Carol’s hat.

“This is all assuming that he wants us to find him.” T-Dog mentioned quietly as they moved to the third building to examine on their way back.  “Maggie told us what went down in there. And once Carl explained the slip-knots, I realized that you didn’t have any intention of giving him up. I just… I saw his back with all the help I’ve been giving Hershel. I’m just not sure he’ll survive it if he ever has to go home again.”

Rick nodded as he tapped on the door to see if anyone or any thing would answer.  “He’s never going back there. He’s one of us now.”

“Yeah.” T-Dog agreed. “I’m just not sure  _ he _ knows that, especially after you said the opposite to Joe.”

“Yeah.” Rick acknowledged. “He’s going to, though.” 

They checked several buildings before switching tracks and concentrating on the residential area. Rick was reasonably sure that would have been Daryl’s preference. They tend to be more predictable with fewer Walkers around if there were any. Most of the houses were empty, but several had a few Walkers to put down as they made their way zig-zagging back towards the Post Office. With each additional empty house and no positive words from the others, Rick became increasingly worried that they’d find him too late.

As the afternoon quickly approached evening and the sun started to set, Rick began to worry that maybe T-Dog was right. He’d been so sure that he’d made that connection and gained Daryl’s trust, he didn’t want to contemplate blowing it all with one ill-timed defensive ploy. But maybe he had and maybe Daryl didn’t want to be found.

It was those thoughts that caused Rick to hesitate in his next orders to shift their search towards the small mall and the Dick’s Sporting Goods when Maggie and Glenn reported in that they’d finished looking in their area. If Daryl didn’t want to be found, then he wouldn’t be using their only remaining familiar territory. Of course, Daryl wouldn’t exactly have much of a choice. He needed the antibiotics that they were now in possession of. And all of this was, of course, assuming he was still in his right mind when he’d run off. 

“We need to start considering what our plans are.” Hershel prompted as Rick and T-Dog returned to the group to check in and adjust their trajectory. 

“Find Daryl.” Rick stated firmly. 

Hershel nodded sympathetically. “No one is contesting that. But after we find him, where are we staying? At the Post Office?”

“That’s probably not a good idea.” T-Dog commented. “It’s pretty secure from Walkers, but I’m not sure we would have had the upper hand had those Claimers planned on laying siege. Plus, they had actual radios. If they have any friends outside town, you can bet that location is compromised.”

“Certainly doesn’t help that we had our shoot-out so close to home base.” Carol added, nodding her head towards the bloody mess they’d left behind. “I’m starting to see why Daryl was in such a rush to get out of dodge.”  She didn’t mention the reference to Joe working with a Dixon, but Rick could tell it was weighing on her mind. Daryl had been running away from something awful, but he hadn’t made it very far. “I think we should just cut our losses and pull out now.”

“And go where?” Lori pointed out. “This may be a terrible town, but at least we know what we’re up against here, there are several relatively safe locations and we’ve got enough supplies to last us a while. I think we should just lay low.”

Rick was not a fan of that option, especially considering how Joe’s words earlier that morning suggested both that they were very close to someone very dangerous and that more people were likely to follow. On the other hand, there had been few places half as secure or well stocked as where they’d ended up and neither Lori nor Daryl should be traveling. Carl was only just limping around on his own now and would heal better if he wasn’t expected to keep moving. “How long before Daryl would be good for traveling?”

Hershel let out a long breath that was mostly a sigh. “That boy has done just about everything that can be done to make himself worse and slow down his recovery. I’d have said this morning that he needed a round of antibiotics and a minimum of one week on bed rest recuperation if we didn’t want to seriously jeopardize his health. And now I can only assume that he’s likely standing at death’s door again. If you knew where you wanted to take him, and already had it cleared out, I’d still hesitate to agree to the arrangement.”

“So, we need to lay low in town for a while.” Lori reiterated. “Some place people aren’t likely to look.”

“Dick’s.” Carol suggested. “It’s cleared out already, the gate is down and secured, and most people don’t risk malls anymore. Joe’s group turned it down flat.”

“We checked there.” T-Dog pointed out.

“Only because it was suggested to us first.”

“There’s still the issue of Walkers throughout the mall. Some of the walls separating it from the center of the mall are just made of glass.”

Rick let out a frustrated sigh. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He wanted to keep looking for Daryl. But Hershel was right. They couldn’t stay at the Post Office and they shouldn’t risk moving him again once they’ve got him settled. So, he needed to make up his mind now. “We’ll stay at Dick’s until Daryl is well enough to travel.” He declared, making it clear that this decision was final. “We’ll cover the glass and reinforce it with shelves and clear the Walkers by piking them through the gate. Their smell should cover ours, but we’ll stick towards the center, keep out of sight and our voices down anyway. We’ll do a 24 hour watch on the roof in short shifts, and but otherwise bank on being inconspicuous.”

Everyone seemed to be equally dissatisfied, so Rick figured he’d hit the compromising sweet spot, and instructed Hershel, Lori and Carol to start packing up and to take the van over when they were finished. “Be sure to move it out of sight when you’ve finished unloading.” Rick added as he and T-Dog took off to search more houses, scanning the streets as they went.

After they’d cleared the first one in silence, T-Dog jovially said, “I’m sure they love that we’re once again reloading all of our gear, only now it’s to return to where we got it from.” 

Chuckling, Rick finally broke out a small smile. “It’ll give them time to really evaluate their belongings and rank them according to necessity.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting some sort of perverse joy out of this whole experience.”

Rick let the silence reign until they’d finished securing the next building.

“Lori had this thing about feng shui, though I’m not sure she ever called it that. Basically, she’d decide to switch everything around in our house from time to time. My office should be on the first floor, she’d say, or Carl isn’t going to sleep early enough in the summer because the light shines into his room, or wouldn’t we enjoy a nice library in our home?” Rick grinned. The memories had a warm haze to them instead of the bitter air they always seemed to carry before the world ended. “So, naturally, she’d make us pack up everything in two or three rooms and move it around and around the house until she was finally satisfied and we could then unpack everything. This happened at least twice a year.”

“So you are enjoying this.”

“Doesn’t make it any less necessary.” 

As they were finishing up clearing the fourth place, Maggie’s voice came over the walkie talkie, sounding both relieved and anxious. “We found him. Beth, let dad know.”

Glenn filled in the gaps a moment later with their location, and Rick and T-Dog bolted that way, finding themselves close by, passing Glenn while he sprinted back for the truck.

Maggie looked up quickly at their sudden appearance in the apartment with her. She was kneeling in front of a closet door. Rick could make out an arm draped across the floor in front of her and swallowed hard. Were they too late?

“He’s breathing.” She assured, reading the concern on his face in the dim lighting and inching to the side so he could kneel beside her. 

Daryl was passed out, and he did not rouse for either of them, even as Rick shook him slightly and tapped at his face. But he was breathing, so that was something. He sat back on his haunches. “He wake up at all?”

Maggie shook her head. “Didn’t wake up for her, either.” She said, pointing to the corpse a few feet away that he hadn’t noticed with all his attention focused on Daryl. “Was trying to scratch her way inside when I came in.”

“I guess it’s lucky or you wouldn’t have known where to look.”

“No, I was following the beets.”

Rick looked around in confusion before spotting the can sitting on the otherwise empty kitchen table. Another can was just outside the front door. In his eagerness to get inside and the quickly disappearing light of dusk, he hadn’t even noticed. Rick smiled. Daryl had wanted them to find him.  He hadn’t really thought he would have gone this way. It would have meant doubling back after he lost his pursuer, but he’d been thinking clearly enough to leave them a trail to follow; one that wouldn’t be picked up on by strangers.

They’d located Daryl, and he was alive. And he’d found the antibiotics he’d promised. So he supposed in this post-apocalyptic shit-storm, they had gotten lucky. 


	12. Recuperation

It was nearly two days before Daryl woke up again, and another two before he was really out of the woods. Hershel hovered and tisked and barely let him get up to use the bathroom for the entirety of a week. Daryl was simultaneously bashful about the attention and growling in frustration. Carl was supposed to be taking it easy himself, so he frequently sat beside Daryl and told him stories or jokes or read sections out of the hiker’s manual he’d found on one of the shelves. Rick had no idea if Daryl actually liked the friendly gestures or if he just tolerated them, but Daryl wasn’t the sort to hesitate before telling someone to get lost. Hershel got this treatment at least twice a day. 

By the time Hershel allowed Daryl to get up and move around freely for short periods of time, the store had become something of a home to them. The back windows were all blocked by shelves and blankets, but it was mostly unnecessary at this point as they’d managed to work through every Walker that was close enough to hear them within the first four days. Rick was taking everyone out in shifts to a clearing set a decent ways into the forest to work on their weaponry skills and check the snares that they’d found pre-made and with accompanying directions in the hunting section. They weren’t going into town at all, even if there were other resources they could use, because Rick was still terrified of a similar situation befalling his people again. He didn’t like splitting up except to keep watch on the roof. The days were chilly and the nights were mostly too cold to be comfortable, but everyone rotated through the undesirable post on two hour shifts.  Rick did decide to siphon off the gas from every car in the parking lot one day, but primarily, everyone stayed inside. 

After the first week, Beth started to sing again in the evenings, careful not to get too loud, but everyone took it as a sign that things were going better when she started in with the music. Rick hadn’t expected Daryl to show any interest, but he surprised everyone by his overt fascination with the songs. It was the only activity he was certain to attend, though he didn’t make any attempt to sing himself. He stared at Beth long after she’d finished singing most nights, and the other teenager seemed pleased by the attention. Rick had no idea if any of that was a good thing.  

Daryl was still getting winded easily and slept most of the day away as they started in on the third week. Rick pretended not to notice when he’d sneak over and play horseshoes, but he absolutely refused to let anyone show him how to play badmitton no matter how much he weaseled. He also had to threaten to handcuff the kid to a pipe to get him to stop trying to sneak out and hunt. He offered some shooting lessons instead, but Daryl looked at him like he was an idiot and informed him succinctly that he’d known how to fire a gun before he knew how to read. Rick swallowed the urge to comment that it still gave him zero frame of reference.

“The traps will do for now.” Rick argued. “I don’t want you working yourself into the ground before you’re even better.”

“Hunting is mostly waiting in place anyway.”  
“No. Show Carl some more ropework or get Beth to teach you a new song.” Daryl did not like it, but he always relented when Rick gave him an order. Beth didn’t so much as teach him any songs so much as sing for him whenever he asked. It was the first thing that Rick was certain Daryl actually enjoyed. Doing things because he liked doing them and not because he had to do them to survive seemed like an entirely new concept to the boy. The realization was bittersweet.

For a while, he thought Daryl genuinely liked beets, what with the ongoing history of it. But Daryl would eat anything. He never once complained about the spam, or the cat food, or when Carol burnt the squirrel meat. He and Carl were the only ones who could stomach the cat food without being half-starved first, and Carl actually requested it, but Rick thought it might have more to do with making his mother squirm than wanting to eat it.

Daryl was getting better by the day. Hershel cleared him to do as he pleased, on the condition that he not push himself and continue to submit to check-ups every day. Soon enough, concern shifted away from Daryl and onto Lori and the baby kicking around in her ever growing belly. 

“So, what are our options?”

“I think we really ought to consider staying here. We’ve got enough food between the traps and Daryl being well enough to hunt again, especially if we clear out more houses. We’ve got lots of supplies and a secure location.” Lori suggested. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s better than being caught on the road with a newborn.”

“I think we’ve been lucky so far.” Maggie refuted. “We know this area isn’t safe, from both Walkers and people alike. A screaming baby will alert everything to our presence and those glass entryway doors are not going to stop a herd or a gunshot.”

“I don’t mean forever.” Lori clarified, setting her hand on her bulging stomach protectively. “We can send people to scout out better locations and move when we have a safe destination. It would still be better to have limited security here than no security on the road. This baby is coming soon, and we can’t afford to take that kind of risk.”

“We could look into soundproofing options here in town.” Glenn contributed, giving his girlfriend a shrug when she looked at him in surprise for his disagreement. “They’d come in handy here or somewhere else.”

There was a debate for a while, primarily between Lori, Carol, Maggie and Glenn. Rick listened to all the arguments, knowing he would need to determine the best course of action and wanting to hear all sides. Finally, though, people began to get frustrated, and Rick gave everyone a minute to say their piece before summarizing what he felt were the key points. 

“So, we agree that staying here is a last resort, but still on the table. What we need are thick walls to muffle any sounds, or at least sturdy walls with soundproofing, good sightlines to see what’s coming, an isolated area where people are less likely to be and away from any population centers that might send a herd our way.”

Hershel nodded along before adding, “If we’re thinking of some place permanent, I’d say we ought to look for a place where we can fence in a yard or at least make our own greenhouse. We can’t live on canned goods forever.”

“I know where we can go.” It was the first time Daryl had contributed to the conversation and everyone turned to look at him perched on a shelf outside of the circle. He shrugged. “I do. There’s a prison ‘bout an hour north of us. It’s got all them things and then some. It fell early, so there’s a lot of Walkers inside, but the cell blocks are separate from each other so’s you can jus’ clear one at a time.”

Rick turned to see what other people were thinking, but he was already nodding. “A prison could be just what we need. You’ve been up there before.” It was a statement, not a question because Daryl didn’t just know where it was, he knew when it had been overrun. 

“Yeah.” Daryl admitted easily. “‘S like I said, a good place to make yer base.”

“Tell us everything you know about it.”

Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t much to know. Thick walls, gated yard, guard towers... I tried clearin’ it on m’ own, but I used up most my bolts jus’ on the courtyard and couldn’t clear it with the interior gate open. They jus’ keep wanderin’ out. But the way ya cleared the store could work again. Someone runs in and closes the gate to limit the number of Walkers yer dealin’ with.”

“It’s where you were planning to go.” Rick surmised. “We’ll definitely check it out, but I can’t guarantee we’ll decide to take it on, especially if it’s so full of Walkers.”

“Suit yerself. I’m goin’ there, and I’m gonna clear it out.”

“It’s not worth risking your life.” 

Daryl opened his mouth with what was sure to be more petulant insistence before closing it again and trying not to overreact. “My brother was there ‘fore the outbreak. I need ta know what happened to him.”

Rick frowned, unsure of how to phrase the obvious problem. Daryl obviously wasn’t used to opening up to anyone, and he didn’t want to dissuade that, but he couldn’t risk their lives chasing a ghost. “If he was a prisoner when the place was overrun…. It’s not likely he survived. Especially after all this time.” 

“Nah, y’all don’ know my brother. The only one who can kill Merle is Merle. He’s alive, and I’m gonna find him.”


	13. The Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it’s been brought to my attention that things have sort of wavered away from Ricktatorship, which I think is 100% valid. I felt like it worked better this way and seemed realistic as I wrote it, though. I think partly it’s because Rick hasn’t had Daryl as a companion this whole time and that sort of changes the dynamics a bit, especially combined with the way that basically everyone challenged his decision to let Daryl leave when he was sick. But also we can see that Rick does take input from the group in the way he lets everyone talk things out over the map in Season 3, Ep 1, and considers their input before making the final decision, so that’s mostly what I was aiming for.

Evidence of Daryl’s presence at the prison was unmistakable. There were nearly two dozen Walkers collapsed in the courtyard with a bolt protruding from each of their heads. A couple were clearly knifed at the outer edge of the fence. There was also a pile of corpses near the interior fence gate. Rick took a guess that Daryl had attempted to clear the place and after running out of bolts had resorted to bullets. Of course, a gun would be too loud and draw out more from further in the prison. It was doomed to failure as a solo task.

Rick rested a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Good work on getting it started. I’m impressed by how far you were able to get by yourself. 

Daryl glanced at him sideways, instantly suspicious of the praise, but Rick just tried to look serious about his comment. Daryl nodded slowly. “Didn’t work, though.”

“Well, doesn’t matter how skilled you are, you can’t be in two places at once.” Carol comforted. “And this is something I’m guessing most people would have given up as a lost cause, even with a group.”

Sensing the boy’s growing discomfort with the praise, Rick quickly redirected everyone’s attention to the task on hand. They’d have to take it quickly before they drew too much attention from either the inside or the outside alike. The place was crawling with Walkers, and nearly as many had replaced the amount killed inside the courtyard. Still, he felt good about this plan. It was risky, but not outrageously so, and Daryl had demonstrated every inclination to make the attempt single handedly if Rick turned down the suggestion. Then he’d be short a hunter and a safe place to stay. 

“How’d you get in before? You obviously didn’t stand out here to shoot.” Besides having to shoot through two fences, the location left their backs unnervingly open to attack. 

“Used wire-cutters. This way.” Daryl led them further down along the stream to where a hole had clearly been haphazardly repaired with wire. Everyone followed. They’d elected not to take the vehicles up close for all the attention they could draw and the likely event that more Walkers would pour into the grassy field upon hearing the engines approaching. The only real debate Rick had had with himself was whether or not he ought to bring everyone or leave people by the cars. In the end, he didn’t dare separate his group, even if Lori looked about ready to pop.

After confirming that the ring between the two chain-linked fences remained clear, he prodded everyone to get inside. They jogged along the walkway, Walkers snarling on either side of them, but Rick could only see the potential beyond the fences. It was fortified and securable. “It’s perfect.” He said as they reached the interior entryway where a bus lay turned over on its side and providing cover already. “If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these Walkers.” 

“So how do we shut the gate?” Hershel asked. Rick could only hear the real question: who was going to make the run for it?

Glenn volunteered, to which Maggie immediately expressed her disapproval, once again curbing his self-sacrificing tendencies. 

“No.” Rick shot them both down before anyone else could think it was open for debate. He knew they could do this. They were well-rested, well-fed, and well-armed from their break at Dick’s, but every moment they dallied drew more Walkers to their position and put them in more danger. “You, T-Dog, Maggie and Beth, draw as many as you can over there. Pop ‘em through the fence. Daryl, Carol, go back to the other tower and cover me. Hershel, you and Carl will take this tower.” Everyone was already moving when he breathed deeply and sighed. “I’ll run for the gate.”

Rick checked that his silencer was firmly attached. It would be more necessary than ever if he was going to try and sneak past the crowd of Walkers to make the run. He had no intention of ever admitting it, but he was a little more afraid of his own people hitting him than of the Walkers getting him. Carol either hit well or missed badly. Carl just didn’t have much experience aside from clearing houses with Walkers right in front of him. And Daryl, well, he’d never actually seen Daryl fire a weapon, had he? He assumed the kid was good from the evidence, which now included dozens of Walkers with bolts in their heads, but he hadn’t ever seen his process. 

“Ready?” Lori asked, gripping the chains of the fence gate. 

Rick nodded curtly, readying himself to make the run. The door opened, and he took off. He could hear his people shouting and trying to draw attention away from him, but many still noticed his presence and quickly moved towards him. He fired repeatedly, but more kept coming.

His heart beat wildly as he turned from one shot at the sound of a arrow piercing flesh just in time to see the Walker go down directly beside him with a bolt protruding from the center of its skull. Glancing up, Rick gave a brief nod of thanks before taking off again. Any thoughts of safety were immediately eradicated by a near-miss from Carol, but Rick was already at the gate, kicking a Walker straight in the chest to get him out of the way and slamming the door shut. He popped on the home-made locks before diving into the guard tower, hoping it would be empty. Naturally, it was not. Still, with the door shut behind him and the two guards dead in a slump on the ground, Rick’s heart slowly started to unclench.

He made his way to the top of the tower, prepping a rifle and surveying the yard quickly before helping take out the last of the Walkers roaming the courtyard. Finally, finally, he smiled. They’d done it.

Carol and Carl were talking excitedly. T-Dog was cheering. Everyone was smiling, even as he assigned them to sweep the field and make sure every Walker was sure to stay down. T-Dog started rambling about clearing out the bodies and getting a canal dug to ensure fresh water. That would have to happen quickly. Hershel was talking about possible crops and the healthiness of the soil. 

Glenn was suggesting they clear out the nearby Walkers and bring in their vehicles first thing since all the food and supplies were loaded in them. “Could keep us going out here for a while, if the weather keeps. We can work our way inside slowly. Maybe take a week to draw them out and pick them off one at a time.”

“No way.” Daryl frowned. “The sun is still up. We start clearin’ the inside today.”

Everyone looked at each other, first to determine if the suggestion was serious and then to decide what the best argument against it would be. The obvious desire to hold off simply to take a break following their first success was definitely not going to cut it.

Rick shook his head. “We’re not rushing it like that. It’s too dangerous.”

“Sure, so long as y’all are safe. Don’ give a shit ‘bout my brother trapped in there.” Daryl scowled, but Rick knew he was not ready to get violent no matter how angry he seemed by the way he slipped his crossbow over his shoulder. “What ‘bout yer wife? We gonna be safe out here with a baby wailin’ in a couple days?”

Rick ignored the comment. The baby was coming soon, so they couldn’t take forever, but first he needed their hunter to understand the situation fully before charging in guns blazing. “Daryl, your brother has been in there for the better part of a year. If he’s still alive, and that’s a big if, another couple of days aren’t going to make a difference.”

“You don’ know him. He’s alive!” Daryl growled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Rick was reminded suddenly that for all Daryl acted like a grown-up, he was still a kid looking for his family. He needed to reach Daryl. He couldn’t have the teen risking his life on his own mission with no plan to speak of.  “Ain’t worried ‘bout some dumb dead bastard.”

“What about a hundred dumb dead bastards? Two hundred? Different story?”

“Do what you want. I’m gonna go get him, and you can’t stop me.”

“I don’t blame you.” Rick quickly interjected with a stern but compassionate inflection before Daryl could push past him. “He’s family, I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know how you feel.” He waited until he had Daryl’s full attention before continuing. “But you need to keep yourself safe or you’re no good to him. Now, we’re going to clear this place together without losing anyone, and we’re going to do it soon before the baby arrives, but only if we can keep a level head and play it smart.”

“I could do that.” Daryl said stiffly. 

Rick nodded before turning to the rest of the group, relatively sure that Daryl would follow his lead on this one. “Glenn, you’re right, our first priority is bringing in our vehicles and our supplies. So we’ll all help clear the outside gate together, then half of us will get the vehicles while the rest of us keep the gate clear for them. When that’s finished, we’ll clear along the inside gate until it gets dark. Then, in the morning, we’ll start again until no more are coming to us. Then, we’ll start in on the prison, one block at a time. This place fell early, so we may be able to restock our food, medicine and ammo.”

If anyone didn’t like his plans, no one mentioned it. The cars were brought in without a hitch, but it was nearing dark by then. Daryl was grumpy about the slow progress and took watch while Rick thought and planned and walked the perimeter a half dozen times. 

At some point, he watched as Beth brought Daryl over some dinner. He didn’t think much of it until there was some angry shouts and shoving. Rick didn’t hear most of it, but he did catch the distinctly loud and unfriendly, ‘Get off me, woman.’ He tried to assess if Beth was in any danger, but ignored the urge to run over and check it out because Maggie and Hershel were already standing at the ready and Beth was walking quickly away. She didn’t appear injured.

Rick walked the perimeter a few more times while people settled into sleep before checking on Daryl, knowing he wouldn’t want any extra attention.  Carol had tried to relieve him from watch, but she’d obviously failed because the boy was still sitting there and she was wrapped in a blanket by the fire.

Rick made himself comfortable on top of the overturned bus without asking permission  because he knew Daryl would turn it down. He waited several long minutes before speaking. “Tell me what happened.” In his head, he could run down several plausible conversations. Beth had brought him dinner and probably attempted to comfort him about his brother and undoubtedly stepped in a land mine in the emotional warzone that was Daryl Dixon, triggering his hairpin temper. 

“Nothin’.” Daryl grunted, kicking his feet where they dangled and pretending to clean the bolt that there was no way he could see clearly enough to clean.

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“I didn’t hurt her.” Daryl defended, watching Rick carefully out of the corner of his eye. His shoulders were tense, and he seemed to be itching to get away. He probably thought he was in trouble, but Rick already had a pretty good guess what had gone down: a misunderstanding.

Rick considered that maybe he was scaring Daryl unintentionally, and leaned back on his hands in a relaxed posture. “I didn’t think you did.”

“So why you here?”

“Staring at people can give them the wrong impression. Like you’re angry or maybe that you’re interested in them.”

Daryl sighed and shifted in discomfort. “I just… I like her songs is all.” 

Rick had no idea if that was the whole truth or how much he should push the issue. On one hand, the primary goal was keeping the peace between his family, and he didn’t think Beth would be making that mistake again. On the other hand, Beth might do Daryl some good. “You sure that’s it? She’s cute, and she likes you. Nothing wrong with you liking her, too.”

“Well, I don’t.” Daryl said shortly, and with such definitiveness, Rick couldn’t help but think something else at play, though he was still feeling around in the dark on this one. He wanted to back off, but Daryl had probably never had anyone to talk to in his life. 

“Either way is okay. No one here is going to judge you for who you do or don’t like.”  Rick commented gently. “You’ve just got to be careful of how you treat people. You can’t be rough with Beth because you don’t like what she said.”

“ _ She kissed me _ .” Daryl hissed, folding his arms over his chest defensively. “I didn’t do nothin’. I sure as shit didn’t ask her to.” 

“That a problem for you, then?”

Daryl squinted suspiciously at Rick. “Ain’t no fag, if that’s what yer askin’.”

“I wasn’t.” Although, now Rick was curious if that was the actual problem. He couldn’t imagine Daryl confessing if it were. He silently added another word to the list Lori was coaching Daryl not to say around Carl. The endeavor had been overwhelmingly successful to everyone’s surprise. Lori explained why she didn’t want Carl saying specific words and that because he looked up to Daryl, she needed him to refrain from saying them, too. The racial slurs disappeared from his vocabulary overnight. 

“Fuck do you want, anyway?” The swearing resolutely remained.

Strangely, the other looming consideration was somehow easier to address. “I’d just wondered if you’d like to talk about what happened with the Claimers. With Dan.” It was high time he’d brought it up, but it’d always seemed too difficult. He wanted to know if Daryl still worried that he wasn’t part of the group, like Rick had said to Joe. He wanted to know how he was coping with being thrown under the bus like that because he was acting like it was perfectly normal. He wanted to know if the way the teen tossed and turned had anything to do with the threat of getting raped. Did Daryl really even understand what had almost happened?

Daryl heaved a sigh and for once the annoyance in the noise was comforting because it meant he wasn’t scared. “Look, I’ve known assholes like Joe and Dan my whole life. That weren’t the first time someone put their hands where they weren’t welcome. But Merle’s always been there to beat their face in fer lookin’ at me funny.” Daryl snorted and glanced at Rick. “First time someone’s chewed through ‘nother man’s neck fer me, though. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Rick nodded. He supposed that in a way, Daryl had answered all the questions he’d asked and then the ones he’d meant to ask besides.  He wasn’t entirely sure that being placed into the role of a replacement Merle was quite where he wanted to be in Daryl’s mind, but he could tell that Daryl considered it an honor, so Rick just patted him on the shoulder and smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally cannot ship Bethyl. I love Rick/Daryl (which is definitely not happening in this story) and can totally get behind Carol/Daryl (also not happening here), but not Beth/Daryl. For me, I see Daryl as having this soft spot for kids a mile wide and that his relationship with Beth very much falls into that category. She’s his charge that he’s supposed to look out for and protect, so I feel like Daryl would not be able to get over that aspect to have any sort of relationship with her. Beth also seems to not relate to him well, existing in an entirely different sphere until the prison falls, and even then struggling to understand him. 
> 
> But a young Daryl would certainly change that dynamic. I see Daryl as having a sort of fascination for the frivolity that Beth has been allowed to experience and being interested in finding more to life than survival, which Beth would seem to represent. Beth would probably see him as a protector-type, which she obviously has a fondness for if her tolerance of being cared for by Carl in the show is anything to go by, and also be interested in a viable candidate for romance in the could-die-any-day scenario they’re in. That being said, it just didn’t seem to work. I think Daryl’s too traumatized to really have that be on the table for him any time soon, so it just fizzled right out before I could write anything for it. I apologize if I’ve crushed anyone’s hopes and dreams.


	14. Cell Block

It took longer for the air to clear between Beth and Daryl than it did to clear the prison. With proper ammo, supplies, weapons and relatively relaxed time constraints, they were able to keep the project reasonably safe. They spent a day preparing, dumping the bodies from the courtyard and burning them outside the gates, setting up a proper water flow and securing the towers and storage in the field. Rick took Maggie and Glenn with him to raid the armory. It was off-site, but not very far away, the location neatly marked on a map in the guard tower. He’d planned to briefly scout the area and return later, but apparently no one had made it far enough to reach the place because it was entirely devoid of the undead. He posted Maggie outside to keep watch while he and Glenn cleared the building of every piece of useful weaponry it had. It was disappointingly small.

On the second day, they got to work. They piked every Walker that had built up along the fence and then shouted and banged metal until more of them came. Some of them were wearing riot gear which threw them for a loop at first, but Maggie quickly discovered that they simply needed to change their angle of attack and come in from below to pierce the neck between the helmet and the padded armor. When the flow of Walkers finally ceased and nothing was responding to the noise they were making, Rick took T-Dog, Maggie and Glenn inside the perimeter to prop open the doors one by one and then retreat back behind the fence. Lori shut down Carl’s pleas to join, and Daryl was spitting fury at being left behind until Rick explained that he wanted him acting as a sniper and watching their backs. By the evening, Cell Block C was declared safe, and they moved their gear inside so they could sleep with the added protection of walls and a ceiling. 

“What do you think?” Rick asked as everyone filed into the dark cell block with their bags.

“Home sweet home.”

“Is it secure?”

“This cell block is.” Rick affirmed, feeling a little giddy at their success and the promise that this find held. Even if the rest of the prison was looted and useless, the security of the prison’s thick walls and sturdy metal gates in this building would definitely let him sleep easier. He didn’t think he’d gotten a good night’s sleep since they left the farm, always forced to keep one eye open and one ear listening just in case. “Tomorrow, we’ll start working our way through the rest of the prison, starting with D Block.” It hadn’t taken much prodding to determine that that was where Merle Dixon had called home prior to the outbreak. Daryl had tried insisting that they clear that block first as soon as Rick suggested entering the prison.

“We sleep in the cells?” Beth asked dubiously, not on the same page as Rick about the value of security.

And apparently neither was Daryl. “Ain’t sleepin’ in no cage. I’ll take the perch.”

Rick ignored the comments. “We found a set of keys on the guard. Glenn has a set, too.”

Maggie and Glenn looked exhausted and trudged off to pick a cell, and everyone else followed their lead and meandered away. Rick picked an empty cell at random and fell down face first into his pillow. It stunk, but not badly enough to move. He didn’t know what it would say to Lori that he’d specifically chosen not to share her cell, but he didn’t even know how to address their situation anymore. They’d both said their piece but nothing had changed or gotten better.

It felt like he’d just closed his eyes when someone was bumping his foot. He whipped around and sat up in one motion, but it was just Lori with a bowl of something to eat for dinner. It had gotten even darker in the cell block, and he figured he must have been asleep for a couple hours already.

“Thank you for this. Daryl was right; this place is perfect for us, for the baby.” Lori said quietly as she sat beside him while he ate. He didn’t have anything else left to say in regards to the problem that loomed dangerously between them, so he just continued eating. “He’s been outside for hours making sure none of the Walkers will get up, but I think he’s just checking to make sure none of them are his brother. God, I don’t know what we’re going to do if he finds him dead somewhere in here.”

Rick latched on to the change in topic. “Dead’s easy enough. I’m more concerned about if we find him alive.”

“What do you mean?”

“Daryl likes him well enough, but think about the kind of person Merle has to be. He was in this prison for who knows what, so he’s got to be several years older than him. Assuming he wasn’t the bastard that beat him bloody on a regular basis for years, Merle just stood by and let it happen. I don’t want him in our group; I don’t want him near Carl.” Not to mention that he was certainly deeply involved in the drug operations that their father was running, and that he was undoubtedly one of the racist, hate-filled influences in Daryl’s life.

“It doesn’t matter.” Beth interrupted firmly from the open doorway looking both hesitant to intrude and determined to set the matter straight. “Merle could be the devil himself, but Daryl still has the right to miss him.”

“You’re right.” Lori agreed when Rick was slow to respond. “No one is suggesting that finding Daryl’s brother is a bad thing, just that it could be a complication.”

Rick kept his mouth shut, but nodded at his wife’s sentiment. Beth smiled tightly and continued on her way. Finding Merle was definitely a bad thing in his book. Either Rick was going to have to let him join their group or face the very real possibility that Daryl would choose his brother over them. And his brother obviously wasn’t able to keep him safe, even before the world ended. 

“Not really good odds that anyone survived in here, anyway.” Lori murmured, obviously picking up on his continued displeasure.

“Right.” Rick agreed. Except Merle wasn’t just anyone. He was Daryl’s brother, and Daryl had already proved his extraordinary survival skills and instincts. Rick wouldn’t be surprised at all if Merle Dixon was still alive.

Just then, Glenn went racing by the cell towards the main door. “Shit!” He grunted as he ran, Maggie two steps behind him. 

Rick picked himself up and trotted after them, shouting for T-Dog as he went before asking, “What’s going on?” 

“The keys are gone.” Maggie responded as they pulled open the door and stepped into the fading light. 

“You lost them?” Rick asked incredulously towards Glenn.

“I didn’t lose them!” Glenn argued, circling the pavement and looking around the corner. “I was helping Daryl earlier and now he’s gone, too. He must have taken them.”

Rick swallowed down his own curses. Of course the kid wouldn’t wait one more day so they could look for his brother as a group. “At least we know where he’s going. Come on, he could be in danger.”

The halls toward Cell Block D were littered with corpses, enough to make Rick considerably worried about Daryl’s safety. It was dark with little natural light creeping in, and if Rick weren’t so furious at the moment, he would probably be impressed with the sort of bravery of wandering around in the dark with literal monsters lurking around trying to eat you. Why hadn’t he let them know his stupid plan instead of stealing keys and going out on his own?  

Cell Block D was blessedly devoid of any Walkers and the small number of bodies lying strewn about suggested that there hadn’t been many to start out with. Most of them appeared to be prisoners that had had their hands tied behind their backs and were executed with a bullet to the head. Rick cringed, sincerely hoping that one of those men wasn’t Merle. 

He nodded at Maggie and Glenn to clear one side while he and T-Dog quickly scanned through the cells on the other side. None of the cells were occupied except for one on the second landing where Daryl was curled up cross-legged, his back to the door, and looking through a small cigar box. Rick wasn’t entirely sure if the place was already clear when Daryl arrived or if he’d had enough sense to put down any remaining Walkers before looking for Merle’s room. He nodded at T to keep checking the cells over and halted beside the open cell door.

Rick wanted to strangle the kid for behaving like he had, wanted to berate him, but he took a deep breath and focused on the present. “Good thing I’m not a Walker.”

Uncharacteristically, Daryl started and quickly wiped his hand across his face, but he didn’t turn to face Rick. “Told ya. You ain’t any good at bein’ quiet.”

“I take it he wasn’t here.” 

Daryl shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t grab his stash neither so he musta left in a rush.” He dangled a plastic baggie from two fingers to illustrate his point before tossing it at the wall and returning to the cigar box. Rick couldn’t tell what was in there beyond a few small trinkets and folded papers, but it’d obviously belonged to Daryl’s brother if the way he was carefully touching everything like they were sacred was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry.”

Daryl shrugged. “Guess I knew better. Ain’t no reason for him to stay here.”

Rick waited a solid minute before deciding that he’d let the kid wallow plenty long enough. “You shouldn’t have come here alone.” Daryl turned slightly so he could glance sideways at him before shrugging, which cleared Rick’s conscience of any thoughts that he should take it easy on the teenager. “No, I don’t think you get how monumentally stupid that was. You had no idea what was here or on the way. It was a miracle you made it through those halls unscathed with how many Walkers were around, and it could very well have been worse inside here. What if there were dozens in here? What if there were prisoners other than your brother? What if you’d found him turned? Would you have been able to keep your head and defend yourself?”

Daryl seemed to curl in on himself with every comment, and when he did look up at the last question, Rick’s tirade halted in his throat. Daryl expected to get hit. The anger dissipated. Suddenly, Rick wanted nothing more to give the kid a hug, but held back. He couldn’t imagine Daryl being receptive to one. 

“You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Daryl shook his head, still watching Rick cautiously. He’d closed the box and had shifted around into a crouch. He looked tempted to bolt. Rick sighed and leaned against the wall, hoping it would make him look less threatening. 

“I just… I can’t protect you if I’m not with you. I promise that we’re going to clear this place until we find him or we’re positive he’s not here. You told me you were going to keep a level head. What happened to that?”

Standing, Daryl watched his feet guiltily. “Lost my patience.”

“Well, don’t do it again. I kind of like having you around.”


	15. Prisoners

It was definitely some sort of miracle that Daryl had made it to D Block on his own, Rick decided as they made their way back towards C Block. The hall was still riddled with Walkers that they’d apparently been swift and quiet enough to avoid the first time through, and the progression towards their new home was slower and more careful as bodies were added to the count on the floor. 

“Damn, kid. You must have a guardian angel or something.” T-Dog commented after killing another Walker.

“Think we got them all now.” Glenn said, clanking something metal against metal that Rick couldn’t see in the dark before they turned the next corner. 

Rick waited until they’d reached the gates of their own block before agreeing with a sigh. The trip back had just hammered home how monumentally stupid Daryl had been, how close they’d come to losing their newest member, and the leader had to stamp down on his urge to berate the teenager again, remembering the wary look he’d been given during his last attempt. Instead, Rick pointedly took the keys from Daryl and gave them back to Glenn, hoping that would be the end of it.

Their safe return was noted and well-received, but Rick was too tired to give it any more effort. He curled back up on his bunk and finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

In the morning, Rick was pulled out of a deep sleep by the soft murmurs of voices echoing off the walls and instantly checked to make sure he was still in possession of the cell block keys. He doesn’t really feel relieved until he sees Daryl sitting beside Carl at the table spooning oatmeal into his mouth and not answering the unending stream of questions from the younger boy. 

Carol handed Rick his own bowl of oatmeal as he approached, and he sat down beside Hershel.

“How many were on the way in? Did you count them? Were there more in that cellblock? How was the lighting? Did you mostly use your knife? Were you scared?” Carl did not seem dissuaded by Rick’s arrival, but Daryl looked up briefly before looking away guiltily.

“Wish I’d brought back-up. Could’ve been worse.”

Rick saw it as the peace offering it was, but still cringed because he knew exactly how Carl was going to take that comment. “I can be your back-up. I’m a good shot, and I’m quiet.”

“Absolutely not.” Lori cut in without looking up from her work helping Carol with breakfast. “The last thing we need is you two wandering the prison by yourselves.” 

Carl huffed and pushed away his bowl. “You guys don’t think I can do anything. Daryl’s only two years older than me, you know, and you let him do all sorts of things.”

“I didn’t  _ let _ him go to D Block by himself.”

Daryl slammed his fist on the table and stood up. “You don’t  _ let _ me do anything. I’m not your kid, I can go where I want, and I can leave any time I damn well please.” 

Both boys left, passing by Maggie and Glenn as they came out of their cell and headed for the food. “We miss something?”

“Just Carl getting in some early practice on teenage behavior.” Rick sighed. And setting off Daryl’s temper, he added silently.

“Only thing worse than parenting a teenager is parenting a teenager that isn’t yours.” Carol chimed in cheerfully. 

“So, what’s the game plan?” Interrupted Glenn between mouthfuls. 

Rick laid down the map of the building he’d found on the guard in the security room. It’d been the same guard carrying a set of keys and he’d swiped them both without much thought. He scanned the image again before pointing. “I want to clear the infirmary today, make sure we’re stocked in case of an emergency. And, we’ll have to clear the kitchens since it’s the only place I can imagine someone surviving in here for this long. Then, maybe Daryl will settle a little.” Rick didn’t give it a good chance of any of those things happening, but he hoped the effort would appease Daryl enough that the hunter wouldn’t pull any more stupid shit like he’d done the day before. 

“Mighty long way to that kitchens, and probably a good deal of Walkers. I’m going with you.” Hershel declared, already standing up and moving to the gates. He could clearly sense the hesitance among the group to bring him along because he continued, “We’re going to need as many people as we can spare down there.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Daryl was leaning against the gate, clearly suspecting that Rick would try to leave him behind if at all possible. “Get a move on.” 

In the end, the only one Rick was successfully able to keep back was Carl and that probably had more to do with playing on his sympathy for Lori and handing him off the keys than any desire the boy had of following his orders. Hershel reminded him that he had assisted numerous times before and would feel better if he could be there to help. Daryl had very kindly pointed out that if Rick were to insist that he stay behind, he’d just follow anyway. It was hard enough to get him to sit still as they sorted through the riot gear and determined if any of it was worth taking, especially since he seemed to be of the mind that they didn’t need the new gear because they’d made it that far without any sort of specialized protection. Glenn was happy for it, though, and eagerly donned one of the cleaner vests, Hershel and Maggie following suit.

“Infirmary is this way.” Rick gestured as they approached the first turn, everyone pulling out their flashlights and prepping their weapons for the suddenly darker halls.

“Nah, we ain’t havin’ this conversation.” Daryl grunted immediately, but still having the sense to keep his voice low. “We go down to the kitchens first. ‘S where Merle is.”

“This isn’t a discussion.” Rick stated, scanning both ways and finding them thankfully empty. 

“Please.” Daryl insisted quietly, breaking out the word he only ever seemed to use on special occasions. “I jus’... I need to know.”

Rick glanced sideways at the teenager and instantly regretted it. There was no way he couldn’t oblige Daryl in this request when he looked so lost. He tried not to draw the correlation between Carl among strangers looking for him and failed miserably. “Fine.” Rick relented, shifting the group into the opposite direction. It wasn’t like they weren’t planning to go there anyway. “Just keep your head in the game.” 

He didn’t need to tell him to help peeking around corners and keep his bow up, just as he didn’t have to ask Glenn and Maggie to watch everyone’s backs as they moved through the dark. It was undeniably creepy; the walls simultaneously echoed every nearby sound and muffled those further away, creating an obscuring factor that made Rick second-guess every creak he heard. He glanced at Daryl; his face was completely unreadable, but he was alert and ready for danger. He was also following Rick’s brief gestures with unquestioning ease. Glenn was spray painting their way in case they got turned around in the dark, identical corridors. It would also help them find the places that should be cleared out and mostly safe. That sound echoed, too.

There were a couple Walkers wandering throughout the place, but they were easily disposed of. Mostly, the floors seemed to be littered with decaying corpses. Daryl’s light kept skittering around the ground and coming to rest on their faces. Rick prayed he wouldn’t recognize any. It was just beginning to look like the prison was mostly empty already and would be easy to secure when they ran into a sizeable group. 

Rick called for them to back up, keeping his voice low and hoping that they’d somehow avoided detection. No such luck. The small herd lurched towards them, hissing and drawing attention as they bailed around one corner and then another. 

Somehow, in the scramble backwards, they lost sight of Maggie and Glenn, and Rick’s heart was seized with terror. He’d have heard them scream if they’d been caught, right? 

“We have to go back.” Hershel demanded as soon as they were behind cover.

“But which way?” 

They all looked at each other. They’d taken several turns to evade the Walkers, but there was no telling which turn Maggie and Glenn had missed or what room they might have slipped into. He was reasonably sure that they were together, but even that wasn’t a definite. When the coast was clear, they slid back the way they came and Hershel started the precarious balance of whisper shouting with the objective of being heard, but only by the right ears. Rick didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. 

Rick mapped out their route in his head and led them forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of light from their flashlights instead of having to resort to shout whispering himself. Most of the corridors looped back in on themselves, so it should be relatively easy to catch up with their two missing companions, provided they didn’t attract the group of undead back in on themselves.

Just as he was thinking this, he heard the unmistakable shouts of a man in pain, and could tell immediately that it was Hershel. They swung around a different corner, and Rick didn’t hesitate to shoot the Walker gnawing on Hershel’s leg. There was already plenty enough noise to draw in an attack, and all that counted was speed. Maggie and Glenn suddenly reappeared, but the relief was completely overshadowed by Hershel’s continued screams of agony and the quickly approaching Walkers. 

There wasn’t time to panic, so Rick just yanked Hershel’s arm over his shoulders, thankful when Glenn took up his other side without even being asked. He yelled for Daryl who took up defending their backs without another word and they immediately tried to pull back towards C Block. 

“We’re blocked!” 

“Get back! Get back!” 

They changed direction and darted backwards before shifting to a new direction. They hadn’t been that far into the prison, but he had to hope it was clearer than what they were looking at. They needed time. He was already contemplating cutting off the leg. Would he survive the blood loss? Would it keep him human? Rick didn’t know, but he did know that doing nothing would mean Hershel turning. They needed a safe corner for a few minutes before the opportunity was lost. 

T-Dog busted through the door, and they all piled in before pushing them closed. It wasn’t lost on Rick that they’d stumbled into the kitchens, their original destination after all. They laid Hershel down on the ground, and Rick jumped into action, stripping off his belt and making a tourniquet from it to slow the blood flow into his leg. T-Dog was beside them, having found something to jam into the door; Rick wasn’t sure where Daryl had gotten off to, but didn’t let his mind wander from his task.

“Hold him down.” He demanded, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. The group did, though he wasn’t sure if they knew what he was planning, even as he said, “Only one way to keep him alive.” He brought down the hatchet, again and again, blotting out everything around him from Hershel crying and fainting and whatever protests might have come his way. He just hacked at Hershel’s leg until it came off and tried desperately hard not to think about what he was doing. 

Once it was done, the world came back into focus. T-Dog was staring at something behind him, so Rick quickly spun around in his crouch to see what was going on. Daryl had his crossbow up and pointed at a row of prisoners behind metal grating, presumably where the kitchen met the dining area.

“Holy shit.” One of them said. They were alive, but Rick didn’t think any of them were Daryl’s brother. There was only one white man in the group, and Daryl didn’t seem inclined to lower his crossbow for him.  

Rick forced his attention back to Hershel. The prisoners were not his priority right now, “We gotta go back. He’s bleeding out.” He instructed Maggie to apply pressure and do what she could to slow the bleeding. 

Daryl and T-Dog had drawn on the prisoners, and one of them had drawn a pistol in return, but Glenn didn’t hesitate to walk by them all to look for anything useful. 

“You know Merle? Merle Dixon?”

Daryl had to ask the question twice because everyone’s attention was caught on Hershel. Glenn had found a rolling table and dragged it out to them, helping Rick lift the injured man onto its surface. 

“He was here, but he didn’t make it.”

“Hell does that mean?”

“Got bit, same as him.”

Rick tried to ignore the problem growing behind him and started moving. “T, the door!”

Daryl was protesting and swearing loudly, but the prisoners were too occupied by the sudden move to open the door to respond to him. “You’re lying. Ain’t no way he got bit. None of y’all look hurt.”

The door broke open, and T-Dog started taking down the threats. 

“Daryl!” Rick shouted, hoping the teen would listen to him. Daryl didn’t budge. “Hershel needs you. I need you! We can come back.” Daryl finally relented, bolting through the door to keep an eye on their backs as they hurried through the halls. It was a good thing, too, because he kept the Walkers that appeared off of them as they wheeled the cart along, the group of prisoners trailing along behind them. 

When they neared the gates to their block, Rick started shouting for Carl to open up. “It’s Hershel!” He yelled, hoping the few extra seconds would help people prepare. Carol and Lori were ready as Rick and Glenn shifted him onto the cot, and everyone was arguing about the best course of action. 

Carol took charge, and Rick was quick to let her, knowing that she had the most experience and instruction out of them all when it came to medical care, aside from Hershel himself. They gathered together any towels and spare bedding they could to help keep pressure on the wound and stop the bleeding and propped Hershel’s leg up to slow down the flow. Carl ran for the medicine bag they’d stolen from the Claimers, and Lori smiled at his quick thinking. 

“Thought maybe something in there can slow the bleeding or something.” He muttered. Carol dug through the bag, uncaring of the blood being tracked everywhere, while Lori took over applying pressure to the leg. 

“If nothing else, antibiotics and painkillers are a godsend.” Carol replied. “Sure wish we had some sterile gauze, though. If the blood loss doesn’t kill him, an infection could easily finish the job.”

Daryl started yelling and there were other raised voices from the prisoners, and Rick wondered if it was a great idea to leave the kid with them. He quickly explained the situation, made sure Glenn was prepared to help Hershel out should the worst happen, and let himself into the argument. 

Once again, guns were raised, and Rick was torn between attempting to diffuse the situation and making sure these prisoners understood that they were not a force to be reckoned with. He waved for Daryl to lower his weapon, which he did on top of shutting up, but there was an anger and fear in him that he was only barely keeping controlled.

“You guys rob a bank or something? Why don’t you take him to a hospital?”

It was then that Rick realized how completely clueless the prisoners were and started to explain things from scratch. They didn’t believe him at first, of course, and Rick felt a stab of envy of having been so far removed from the death and horrors of the world for so long. He took them outside and started explaining again. 

Once it seemed to have sunk in, the tenseness arose again as they discussed the next steps. The prisoners wanted to take C Block, but Rick explained in no uncertain terms that that was not going to happen. Daryl encouraged them to leave, but the solution didn’t sit well with them. Rick considered that maybe he’d explained a little too well what had happened, and it would have been better to have set them loose prior to giving them a reason to want to stay. The man with a gun seemed to have taken on a leadership position, and Rick didn’t trust him one iota. The rest of the group was somewhat less detestable, but he didn’t particularly want them around his family either. 

“D Block is cleared.” Rick finally declared. “You can have that. But let’s be clear. If we see you out here, anywhere near our people, if I so much as catch a whiff of your scent, I will kill you.”

“Deal.” 

“And whatever food you’ve got left, we’re taking half.” Rick added, knowing that their own supplies were dwindling.   
“Fuck that. Hardly any left for us.” 

“Consider it the price of us getting you out of that broom closet and clearing out a Cell Block for you. Now you can keep both halves, if you prefer, but you’ll have to clear your own Cell Block instead, and you don’t seem to have too many weapons or much experience with Walkers.”

The group of prisoners all looked at each other, except for the man with the gun, who stared straight at Rick the whole time. “Fine.” He relented at last. 

As they transferred the food from the kitchen to C Block, Rick kept a sharp eye on the prisoners, waiting for them to try something and ready to defend his own people, if necessary. T-Dog spent the time coaching the group on how to take down a Walker and what they needed to watch out for. Daryl chimed in occasionally with his own advice, but if the group was dismissive of T’s suggestions, they were downright condescending to Daryl. Daryl was holding it together surprisingly well considering he’d recently been told that his brother was dead, but Rick wasn’t counting out shock or some sort of delayed reaction. He’d need to talk with him as soon as they’d parted ways with the strangers. 

But after they’d finally left to their own Block, and after the gates swung shut with a clang behind him, and after he checked in on Hershel, there was only one thought reverberating through his brain. 

“Where’s Carl?”


	16. Guilt

 

“He went to organize the food.” Glenn replied tentatively. “He’s not out there?”

 

Rick shook his head numbly, his mind a whirlwind of panic. Carl wouldn’t have left; he couldn’t have left. Where would he go? Why? What if he was lying some place bitten? Rick’s heart pounded hard in his chest, and it took a solid minute and Daryl’s hand on his arm to get his mind to quiet down enough to process what was going on around him.

 

Lori was shouting for Carl, checking all the cells while Maggie and Glenn had slipped outside to call for him as well. Beth had returned from double checking the entrance with a troubled shake of her head.

 

Looking to Daryl with wide eyes, he caught immediately where the teen was pointing: the map left out and open on one of the tables. Carl wouldn’t have gone further into the prison by himself, would he? “Where would he go?” Rick asked, voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

 

“He wanted to help.” Carol said from the doorway of Hershel’s cell. “And I wanted gauze to prevent infection. He may have - he may have tried for the infirmary.”

 

“God damn it.” Rick clenched his teeth. “T-Dog and I will get him. Everyone else, just stay here!”

 

“I’m coming, too.” Daryl insisted, ignoring the fierce commanding tone.

 

“No, you’re staying here.” Rick growled. “You’re the reason he got it in his head that it was safe to go places by himself.” Daryl flinched back, dropping his hand, but Rick didn’t have a moment to feel bad about his accusation. Carl was always trying to prove himself, he probably would have made the attempt regardless, but he was sick of his kids running off.

 

Rick checked for his gun and his knife and tore off towards the exit, trusting T-Dog would follow him. He traveled recklessly fast through the unexplored hallways, and he probably should have brought along more backup, but it was hard to think clearly with the terror clawing at his chest and strangling his lungs and heart.

 

They weren’t even halfway to the infirmary when they came across a shadowy figure that Rick recognized instinctively as his son. Carl raised his gun towards another shadow that Rick only belatedly identified as a Walker coming out from the darkness and fired. He had his silencer on the weapon, so the noise was thankfully muffled.

 

Rick fell to his knees as Carl approached and wrapped him in his arms, tugging him close for a tight hug and completely ignoring Carl’s protests.

 

“Are you okay? Are you bit?” Rick asked desperately.

 

“I’m fine. There were only two Walkers. I took care of them.” Carl insisted, smiling broadly. “And look, Dad, gauze and bandages! I can help Hershel.”

 

Rick gaped, unsure where to begin. He was so angry at Carl for leaving and so glad he was back, he didn’t even know how he was feeling. So instead he stuffed his emotions deep down and hurried back the way he came, hand resting on Carl’s shoulder in order to keep tabs of his solid presence beside him as they jogged back to the cell block that they were calling home.

 

Glenn and Maggie jumped on them as soon as they were inside, talking over each other to express their relief. Lori came out just a minute later, yanking Carl into a hug and scolding him for disappearing on them. “What were you thinking going off by yourself like that? You could have been killed.”

 

“It was no big deal.” Carl said, face losing some of its self-congratulatory grin at the anger in Lori’s tone.

 

“Okay.” Lori said, dragging Carl and the bag of first aid into Hershel’s cell. “Do you see this? This was with the whole group.”

 

“We needed supplies, and I got them. Get off my back!”

 

“Carl!” Rick intervened, shaking off the shock of the last twenty minutes. “You won’t speak to your mother that way.”

 

“This is such bullshit!” Carl shouted, unable to mask his hurt and anger.

 

“Go to your cell.” Rick demanded, voice clipped, and trying to take one deep breath after another. He needed some distance before he did or said something he regretted. He knew logically that his anger at his son was just a result of fear and worry, but it didn’t lessen the desire to hit something or the adrenaline that was still pumping through him. He clenched his fists, trying not to give into the temptation to smash up his hand against the concrete walls while their doctor was down. Rick just needed a little time to calm himself so he could think up a good way to get through to Carl.

 

Carl ignored the order, standing firm and trying to get his father to see the benefits of his actions. “I was just trying to help, and I did.”

 

“It weren’t his fault. Was mine.” Daryl darted in front of Carl, pushing the younger boy back and staring up at Rick with a shaky defiance in his gaze. “I made him think it was safe, and if I hadn’t insisted on goin’ to the kitchens ‘fore the infirmary, it wouldn’t of been an issue.”

 

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, growling in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said that. Carl knew better than to go off on his own like that.” Rick added pointedly looking over Daryl’s shoulder where Carl was still fuming.

 

“It was fine. I’m not some little kid who -”

 

Daryl cut off Carl’s response, stepping more fully in front of him. “No, it was all my fault. Hershel wouldn’t have been injured if it weren’t for me. If he dies, that’s on me, too.”

 

Rick sucked in a breath as he clued into what was going on. Daryl thought he was going to hit Carl. Of course he did. The teen didn’t know how a normal family functioned. It was like a cold splash of water, and Rick took a solid step backwards, relaxing his fists and shoulders through force of will. He didn’t think he’d ever get over the shock of those kinds of assumptions. He still didn’t know what to say to Carl, and now he had to diffuse the situation with Daryl, too. “Daryl, this isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have prevented what happened to Hershel.”

 

“No, ya don’t understand. I knew the back wall was down when I scouted the place, and it weren’t as secure as I said. Knew it was overrun and would be too dangerous fer a group this size. I knew it, and I used y’all because I needed to know if my brother was inside. I was gonna rescue him. Weren’t no way he’d of made it out and not come back for me, so I thought he had to still be inside. ‘Cept he’s dead, so it was all fer nothin’.” Daryl looked about ready to break into tears, but he was still holding it together and standing his ground.

 

“Daryl, this isn’t your fault.” Rick repeated firmly. “Yes, you should have told me the wall was down, but I already had my suspicions when I saw some civilians in the yard. And yes, that did make it less secure, but you were right about the separated cell blocks. I still would have taken the chance. Hershel losing his leg could have happened anyway. You didn’t put anyone in any more risk than we already are in our day to day lives.”

 

Rick then reached slowly forward and pulled him into a hug, ignoring the way he flinched and tensed in his grip, and then stretched out to haul Carl to him as well. Carl melted into him, and Rick waited until Daryl relaxed as well before easing his grip so they could take a step back. He looked at Carl. “You did a good job. You may well have saved Hershel’s life. But no one goes anywhere by themselves. This isn’t an age thing; I expect every adult to bring back-up as well. And no one goes anywhere without checking in first, so we know where to find each other and can make sure we haven’t overlooked any dangers.”

 

When Carl reluctantly agreed, his hesitance more of a show than a real refusal, Rick decided on an appropriate punishment. “And you’ll both turn in your guns for the next two days, so I don’t have to worry about you wandering off.” Daryl handed over his gun immediately, and Carl let out a long suffering sigh before giving his up. Rick released him after that and his son quickly disappeared into a cell. “Your bow, too.” Rick added.

 

“What the hell? No.” Daryl instantly refuted, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“You both ran off on your own, so you both have consequences.” Rick explained patiently. “If you’re following instructions, you won’t need a weapon.” Rick wasn’t sure if that was entirely true, but both the kids would still have their knives, so it wasn’t like he was completely disarming them should something happen.

 

Daryl scowled darkly at the ground, but swung the crossbow off his back and handed it over anyway. He obviously had a very different opinion on the situation, but he didn’t defy Rick. Rick took the weapon and strapped it to his own back before shuffling Daryl to a cell to sit on the lumpy mattress of the bottom bunk. Daryl sat and only looked at him a little suspiciously.

 

Rick glanced around to make sure that no one was openly staring and going to gain more attention than Daryl could handle. This was probably a conversation Carol was better equipped to handle, but Hershel needed her at the moment, and Rick didn’t want to let the issue fester. “Tell me what you found out about Merle.”

 

Daryl’s face immediately shuttered. “He’s dead. What’s there to say?”

 

“I want to know.”

 

“What do you care?” Daryl shouted in a burst of anger that dissipated nearly as quickly as it came, tears appearing at the edge of his eyes. “Ain’t like ya knew him. Ain’t like ya wanted him here, anyway.”

 

“I didn’t know him.” Rick said carefully. “But he was important to you. Tell me.”

 

Daryl sighed, slumping his shoulders forward and refusing to look Rick in the eye. “They said he was there with ‘em at the beginnin’, locked in the kitchens by a guard tryin’ to help. There was riots an’ people dyin’ and turnin’ an’ nobody knew what was happenin’. But Merle ain’t the sort that can stay put an’ happy. So, couple days later, he broke open the door an’ tried to fight his way out with just a big knife an’ a busted chair leg. Only, he didn’t make it.” Daryl choked slightly, but pushed forward. “They saw that he got bit on his hand when the others thought they might follow. Last they saw, he was yellin’ and stabbin’ at Walkers down the hallway.” Daryl straightened a little and glanced at Rick from the corner of his eye. “Ya get bit, ya turn.”

Rick didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t promise that it would be okay or that maybe Merle had a chance. He couldn’t fix this problem. So, he just tugged Daryl to his chest again and wrapped his arms around him. Daryl put up far less resistance this time around, burrowing his face into his neck and gripping him about the shoulders firmly. “I’m sorry. And I know it doesn’t make it better or change what’s happened, but I want you to know that we all consider you family. You’re one of us now.”

 

Rick was prepared to sit with Daryl all night if needed, but the teenager rubbed his eyes and pushed away from him after just a couple minutes. He avoided all eye contact. “We done?”

 

“If you ever wanna talk…”

 

“I don’t.” Daryl cut him off, reaching for his bow before remembering that he was supposed to leave it in Rick’s care and then clearing out of the cell.

 

Rick felt the tension ease a little from him. The problems were far from over, but he felt like he might have actually gotten through to Carl this time, and forcibly propped open a door towards Daryl. He was still terrified for Hershel, but at least he’d gotten somewhere with his kids. Rick ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure when he’d started thinking of Daryl as his own son, but it was indisputably the case. He worried about him incessantly in the same manner that had previously been reserved solely for Carl. And although he’d cut off his own leg before mentioning it to Daryl, he was glad Merle was gone, and that Daryl’s abusive past wasn’t going to yank him back under.

 

For the next few days, no one left the cell block except to keep guard in the tower. Everyone was too wound up and concerned about Hershel or too worried about the other prisoners to do much else. Lori took over most of Carol’s chores while she stood vigil and tended to Hershel. Maggie and Beth never went more than an hour between checking in on their father, each time fearing it would be the last.

 

As much as he hated the circumstances, Rick was able to appreciate a few things about the situation. Hershel was not getting any worse. Lori had given him CPR, and while Rick cringed at the mere thought, she’d brought him back and finally felt like she was contributing to the group. Carol was thriving being in charge of something. Everyone seemed content to stay close to the group. Carl, Daryl and Beth were even behaving like the teenagers they were, secluding themselves in a cell and getting up to mischief. Rick gave it far more leniency than he might have before the apocalypse, but the opportunities for them to act like children were few and far between, so he pretended not to have noticed Daryl sharing a cigarette between them that made Beth and Carl gag and cough, and he only rarely eavesdropped.

 

“- see one there.” Rick caught the tail end of Carl’s sentence as he stood innocently below the far upper cell that the kids had taken over. He couldn’t sneak up on them using the stairs because of the way the metal clanged loudly, so his best option was the bits of conversation he could catch from below.

 

Beth’s response was unintelligible from Rick’s position, voice probably muffled in Daryl’s shirt. Rick had caught a glimpse of the way Beth spent most of her time hidden away and curled into Daryl since Hershel got bit. They’d apparently worked out whatever boundaries they needed to, although Rick still had suspicions that the usually touch-phobic kid was probably enduring more contact than he wanted because of some residual guilt over Hershel’s injury. His response was also unintelligible, something of a low murmur, and Rick was about to give up on his subtle check-in except that Carl’s voice was loud and clear.

 

“You could do that?”

 

Another murmured response.

 

“We’ll see if we can find some at a nearby store or something, but it’s nice to know you could make them, in case.” Beth’s voice was suddenly audible, and she sounded pleased. “I know Maggie was worried about how he’d get around now, too.”

 

Crutches. Rick concluded. They were talking about crutches for Hershel. He’d sort of hoped they were having a carefree conversation. No one mentioned that Hershel still hadn’t woken up.

The talking dropped back down to quiet undertones, and Rick was just about to leave and look in on Hershel again, and maybe relieve Carol so she could get some sleep, but a few raised words caught his attention. A moment later, it was a full-blown argument between Carl and Daryl.

 

“You don’t know what it’s been like.”

 

“To have parents that give a shit whether ya live or die? Yer right. I don’t.”

 

“At least dad trusts you to go out with them.”

 

“Ain’t ‘bout trust.” Daryl scoffed somehow louder than his words. “He don’t trust me. He needs me because I know how to survive. An’ you would too, if yer dad had thrown ya out in the woods when you was eight an’ told ya to come back with a deer or not at all.”

 

Beth was saying something quietly in an obvious effort to diffuse the situation, but someone was already stomping out of the cell. Rick made himself scarce, even if what he wanted to do was go up there and tell them what was what. He suddenly felt his almost contentedness evaporate with the knowledge that he hadn’t really gotten through to Carl or Daryl. Neither of them thought they were trusted.

 

Just as he was about to slip into Hershel’s cell, a shot rang out from somewhere deeper in the prison. Then another, then another. Six shots in total, which probably accounted for how many bullets the prisoners had collectively.

 

“Should we go check on them?” Maggie asked as she skidded into the block from her spot on watch.

 

Everyone had turned to him, and Rick bit the inside of his lip. Could he completely turn his back on them, let them suffer their own fate and probably all die if there was something he could do to help? Could he risk his family to go into what was probably a fair number of Walkers in an attempt to rescue a group of convicts he didn’t know or like? “We’ll check D Block, and that’s it.” Rick declared. “And if it’s overrun on the way, we come back.”

 

Lori looked at him tight lipped, but didn’t contradict the decision. Everyone seemed equally on the fence.

 

“You up for it, Mags?”

 

Maggie nodded briefly, so Rick collected her, T-Dog, and Glenn. He hesitated over Daryl, letting his eyes linger on the teenager who stood at the doorway to Rick’s own cell where his crossbow sat on the top bunk waiting for him, but untouched for days.  _ ‘He don’t trust me. He needs me. _ ’ The words echoed through his head, but Rick had no idea whether taking him along would make the situation better or worse. He did know how it would affect Carl, though. Rick left them both to guard the block.

 

There had been nothing but silence since the gunshots, and Rick wondered if the group they’d found in the kitchens was all dead. He pressed forward anyway, keeping alert and making their way slowly. “Should’ve trained them up.” Rick contemplated to himself. “Maybe protected them until they were settled.” He hadn’t wanted to do it because he didn’t trust the men, but if they were all dead, that was on him, too.

 

“They weren’t your responsibility.” Glenn commented in a whisper, apparently walking close enough to hear Rick’s musings.

 

“Still. If they’re dead right now, it’s because we busted them out of their space.”

 

“Wouldn’t have lasted in there forever.” Maggie pointed out. “They would have been forced to leave when the food was gone.”

 

T-Dog took a few quick steps forward so he could keep his voice low. “We told them what was going on and how to kill a Walker. We cleared out a space for them that was pretty secure. They had more than most of us did starting out. Whether they made it or they didn’t, that ain’t on you.”

 

Rick nodded his thanks at this assessment, but it didn’t help the guilt welling within him. It only intensified when they neared the entrance and discovered that there was a herd swarming within. Only a couple remained on the outside, which Maggie and T-Dog were quick to dispatch. Rick was just about to have them pull back before they were noticed, when he got an idea and sprinted forward instead, slamming the gate shut and locking the Walkers inside.

 

“Uh.” Glenn commented.

 

Rick gave a crooked smile. “We’ve got to clear the place anyway, and this is easy enough to do  behind bars.” It didn’t take nearly as long to work through the mass of Walkers as Rick was expecting, even with T-Dog watching their backs instead of contributing. Once they were finished, Rick reopened the gate and set Glenn and Maggie to stab any Walker on the ground that looked questionable. “Hey, anyone alive in here?” Rick called.

 

Surprisingly, there was a response in the form of a door swinging open and cautious heads peeking out. Slowly, three figures trudged out and clanked down the metal staircase. The gunman was gone, which relieved Rick rather than inspiring more guilt. The man had struck him as unstable.

 

“Thanks, guys.” The large one that they called Big Tiny grunted out from behind. “Not sure what we’d have done if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

 

“What happened?” T-Dog asked. “This place was clear.”

 

“Yeah, it was.” The blonde, Axel, explained quickly. “But Tomas an’ Andrew wanted to take back C Block an’ the food you took. We didn’t want no part of that. Then they was talkin’ ‘bout starting up the generators to rile them monsters up. Tomas got bit or somethin’ ‘cause Andrew was up here firing off that gun and tryin’ to lead ‘em to us. Said it was our fault because we didn’t help them.”

 

“Where’s Andrew now?” Rick asked, cautiously looking around the cellblock. The three remaining prisoners looked like they may not pose a threat, but he didn’t want to risk the other one getting the jump on them.

 

Oscar pointed at the pile of Walkers. “Under there.” Rick took his word for it.

 

“Can we stay with you guys? It ain’t safe here, and we ain’t like them others.”

 

Rick glanced over at T-Dog. Glenn was guarding the open gate, just in case, and Maggie was watching the exchange. “Ain’t safe anywhere, these days.”

 

“They’re convicts.” Glenn pointed out. “They all did something to get in here. I’m not sure they should be sleeping in the same place as -” Glenn’s eyes flickered to his girlfriend, and he quickly aborted saying Maggie’s name. “Us.” 

 

“You can lock us in at night.” Axel was hurrying to get in the points he could. “I like my pharmaceuticals, but I’m no killer. Oscar here, he’s a B&E, and he ain’t very good at it neither. We want to stay with you.”

 

T-Dog shrugged. “They may have less blood on their hands than we do at this point.”

 

“Would be nice to have more people.” Maggie added hesitantly.

 

Rick cut back to the prisoners who were waiting for their response. While the worst of the group seemed to be dead, he wasn’t sure he was inclined to trust these men, either. On the other hand, they needed all the help they could get, and if they were with them, they wouldn’t be against them. “If you want to stay with us, you have to do what I tell you to, and I’ll need to know where you are at all times. You don’t get weapons, and you’ll be locked in your cells at night. And you won’t go near the kids.”

 

“Okay.” Axel agreed immediately. Rick was pretty sure he could have demanded anything and the man would agree.

 

Big Tiny was a little slower to accept the terms, but he nodded as well.

 

Oscar shook his head. “I’ve got kids out there myself. If there’s even a chance they’re still alive, I’m going to find them.”

 

Rick nodded his understanding. “We’ll give you some supplies to get you started, and some tips on what it’s like out there, but you’ll be on your own.” Oscar nodded, and he really did seem to understand the gravity of his situation. Rick was almost disappointed that he wasn’t electing to stay with them. He could sympathize with a man looking to protect his kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mighty thanks to EpitomyofShyness for reading this chapter over before I posted. ^^


	17. Judith

Hershel recovered. It was a hope that none of them had dared to hold onto too tightly and everyone greeted the turn of events with incredulity and tentative smiles. Good things didn’t happen anymore, and yet, there their miracle sat, looking tired and pained but very much alive.

Glenn and Maggie found a set of crutches on a run, and continued to make brief trips outside the prison to bring back needed supplies and homey touches for their cells. T-Dog and Carol worked on setting up some proper running water, using the creek and piping stolen from further in the prison. Big Tiny and Axel worked at keeping the Walkers off the fence and burning bodies when it was clear, a task that they were obviously not thrilled to do, but they didn’t complain. Rick took Daryl and Carl to help him systematically clear the rest of the prison, a task that largely involved creating noise and standing behind barred doors, but somehow still managed to disappoint the boys and earn Lori’s concerned disapproval. Beth stayed inside and tended to Hershel and Lori. 

The baby was overdue. Even though they couldn’t be sure about the time of conception nor were they all that certain of the current date, despite Beth’s best efforts to keep track of the days, they were all pretty sure that they’d passed the due date. It wasn’t surprising. Carl had been a tricky birth, and they’d had to do a C-Section for him. Early on, Hershel had talked about how vaginal birth following a C-Section was particularly dangerous, and although they agreed that it would still be the best option to try, Rick hadn’t forgotten that conversation. But as things were, Hershel and Lori had recently started talking about how long they could afford to wait.

“How long do we have to sit here?” Carl whined, not bothering to keep his voice down after they’d actively worked to draw in as many Walkers as they could. He banged his crowbar against the gate for good measure. “We’ve already cleared this section.”

“That was before we got the barricade up on the back wall.” Rick explained again. “We’re going to do each section again before I risk doing a full sweep. The last thing we need is a repeat of Hershel’s injury.” Not to mention his vague ambitions to get one or both of them to open up and talk about their frustrations. That had been mostly a bust, but neither of them were giving him the cold shoulder, so that was something. “Besides, I’d rather avoid using our guns where possible, and this is the safest way to use close combat weapons.”

“Why? We’ve hardly used any ammo, and we’ve got tons of guns now.”

Daryl snorted. “Ya think ya’ve got an arsenal now, ya should see my father’s. He had more guns than y’all got ‘fore the dead started walkin’.”

Rick and Carl both turned to look at Daryl in surprise who kept facing the darkness of the prison hallways. Daryl didn’t talk much about his family besides the occasional disturbing trinket. Rick still didn’t know if the archer even understood how horrifying some of his brief stories were to the rest of them. 

“Yeah?” Carl prompted, attention riveted.

Daryl glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, apparently contemplating whether or not he wanted to share more information. “Fer huntin’, mostly. Only thing he ever spent money on that weren’t booze. An’ he’s got more guns now than woulda fit in our house before.”

“Where’d he get them all?” Carl continued, pleased that Daryl had decided to answer his questions for once. Of course, the archer had an affinity for weapons of all kinds, so it was a good method to get him to open up. 

“End of the world was the best thing that ever happened to him. There weren’t no cops an’ no need for money. All them tweakers still needed their fix, but now they could get their hands on anything. Went from livin’ in a meth lab to bein’ some sorta drug lord in a matter of weeks.”

“What’s a tweaker?” 

Rick stood up abruptly, disappointed that he would have to stop this rare burst of honest insight into Daryl’s life. He wondered if he could fish around for more information now that Daryl wasn’t guarding it as completely off limits. “Okay, that’s good for today. Let’s head back.”

Carl passed Daryl another look, silently begging him to continue, but Daryl just shook his head and stood up as well, reaching a hand to help Carl to his feet. They traveled back to C Block without a sound, not wanting to risk chatting while there was still potential for a stray Walker or two roaming the prison behind them. 

“Thank god you’re back. We were just about to go find you.” Beth gushed when they entered. That was never a good sign.

“Something the matter?”

“It’s… it’s Lori.”

“Is she okay?” Rick trailed after Beth, being intercepted by Hershel outside the cell who guided him away on his crutches for a private conversation. Rick expected to have to chase the boys off, but neither of them were behind him. He took some comfort in the fact that Lori’s condition wasn’t so dire that Beth was keeping Carl away from her. “What’s going on?”

“Her water broke, but there’s been a complication. I’m going to have to do a C-Section. Quite frankly, it’s going to be very dangerous. One or both of them could die. I just gave her a strong sedative to keep her out during the procedure, but you’ve got a few minutes before she’s under. Unfortunately, I don’t have the option of an epidural or proper anesthesia.”

Rick tightened his jaw and nodded numbly. He tried to keep his focus in on the present instead of letting his worry consume him. Lori didn’t have time for him to panic. He walked over to the cell where his wife was lying on the bed, her eyes full of pain, but smiling gently at Carl. 

“-and if it’s a girl?” 

“Lots to choose from. Sophia. Andrea. Amy. Jacqui. Patricia…” 

Lori paused a moment, looking contemplatively at her son and the somber tone he’d taken on. “Maybe something that doesn’t remind us of what we’ve lost.”

Daryl nodded along. “Yeah. Name the baby fer what it’s gonna be. Lil’ Asskicker.” 

The comment surprised a guffaw from Lori’s lips, who then cringed in a pained response. Rick and Daryl both stepped forward in concern, Carl tipping forward in his spot seated on the bed beside her, but she waved them off, the brief glimmer of humor evaporating from the room quickly. Then, before he could step back, Lori caught Daryl’s wrist and tugged him forward. He seemed to follow her intent and knelt so he could press an ear close to her while she spoke in a whisper. Rick couldn’t hear anything she said to the archer, nor could he see either of their expressions, but Daryl stood stiffly after the brief conversation and nodded at whatever she’d said, muttering what sounded like, “I will.” His face was impassive as he pushed by Rick and slipped out of the cell. Lori’s eyes followed him with sadness and motherly affection.

“Remember my third grade teacher?” Carl asked after a moment, drawing in his parents’ attention. “Mrs. Mueller? Her first name was Judy. Do you think that’s a good name?”

“I think that’s a fine name.” Lori nodded, eyes drooping before shaking herself awake slightly. “Judith it is.”

Rick took a few steps into the room, kneeling by the bed where Daryl had been just a moment before and taking Lori’s hand and Carl’s hand. Carl completed the little circle on the other side. “Hershel’s going to get the baby out now.”

Sensing the implied message, Carl looked back and forth between them. “They’re going to be alright, though. Right?”

“Hershel’s going to do the best he can.”

Carl was not comforted by this evasion. “Mom?”

“Baby, I don’t want you to be scared, okay? This is what I want. You’re going to be fine. You’re gonna beat this world. I know you will. Don’t let the world spoil you. You’re so good. You’re my sweet boy, the best thing I ever did, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Carl was crying now, even if he didn’t really understand, he could feel the emotions in the room and the sense of finality that was unsettling Rick himself.

Beth slipped into the cell, setting down a tray on the side table and leaving them just as quickly before Hershel stepped inside, seating himself on the only stool, and quietly telling them that they shouldn’t wait any longer. Lori was already close to unconscious, and Rick felt a terrifying urgency to say so many things. “I love you.” He said, instead, wishing he’d used their time more wisely, used their months to work through their problems instead of avoiding them as he’d done so much during their marriage. What if she never woke up? “I love you.” He stated more firmly.

Lori’s response was slow, and for a moment, Rick wasn’t sure she’d even heard him, but then she slurred out, “I love you, too.”

Hershel forced him from the room, but not before procuring his handcuffs and apologetically strapping Lori’s hands to the bedframe. Rick wanted to protest, but he knew it was the right move, it was the same decision he’d made on Hershel when the old man was lying in bed and his life was in question. 

Rick sat down outside the door, back pressed against the adjacent cell, Carl curled up beside him and Daryl leaning against his other side, and waited. He didn’t pay much attention to what was going on around him. Carol sent Glenn and Maggie off on a run for any additional medical supplies they could find nearby, and not so subtly instructed them to pick up baby formula as well, as a precaution. Then, she joined Hershel in the room and assisted with the process. He wasn’t sure where the former convicts were, but Beth and T-Dog were hovering around in a manner that made Rick want to snap at them to sit down already. 

The minutes ticked by slowly but content in their emptiness. Rick stared at the stairwell. 

The cry of a baby jolted him from his stupor, and seconds later, all three of them were on their feet. Carol had dumped it into Beth’s arms before stepping right back into the cell. Carl immediately joined the teenager, helping her clear off the blood from the wailing child. Rick glanced at the baby briefly before turning back towards his wife, looking into the cell nervously. 

“Is she…?” 

“We’re still working.” Hershel answered brusquely, hands still busy within the blood on Lori’s abdomen. 

Rick watched and waited, staring through the bars and praying with a fervor he’d lacked since Carl had been shot. People came and went beside him, but he paid them no mind as he watched Hershel work. After a while, Lori seemed to be coming around, but it was only evidenced by her screaming in pain. She wasn’t speaking or acknowledging much of anything, wasn’t hunting for the baby as she’d done after Carl’s birth, just gasping and crying. 

“Do something!” Rick shouted at Hershel and Carol. Carol was just shaking her head. 

“There’s nothing else I can do.” Hershel said gravely.

Rick felt the oxygen escape his lungs and couldn’t quite get it back. “No.” 

“The only thing we can do now is end her pain.” Hershel said, shifting to look at Rick.

Rick shook his head. “No.” He swept into the room, grasping Lori by her bound arms, before feeling around desperately, like he could somehow fix the problem. Her eyes were open now, but she didn’t seem to be processing anything. “Lori, the baby made it. You want to hold it, right?” Lori screamed wordlessly.

“Rick.” Hershel prompted. “This can’t go on.”

Rick nodded, rubbing at his eyes, feeling the wet smear of blood. He glanced behind him to see if Carl was around, but T-Dog was dragging him away from the scene, Beth following with the baby. He pulled out his gun. It would be quickest. One bullet and her pain would be over. His hand shook. The gun lowered slightly. How was he supposed to look his wife in the face and do this? His mind raced back to the empty field, and Dale wordlessly begging for a relief only death could bring. Rick had done it then, because there hadn’t been anyone else who could. He couldn’t let Lori suffer unnecessarily now. He went to pull the trigger but his finger wouldn’t budge.

And then another hand was wrapped around his, gently tugging his python away from him. Rick’s hand was too limp to hang on, and the weapon disappeared before he even processed that it was Daryl’s hand taking it away from him. 

Even knowing it was coming, he still flinched when the gun went off.


	18. In the Cuckoo's Nest

With a gun to his head, Rick wouldn’t have been able to recall most of what happened in the days following Lori’s death. It passed in a hazy blur, night bleeding into day and back instead of making normal transitions through hours and minutes. It was almost like sleep-walking, jerking into and out of reality and knowing he must have taken the steps bringing him from one place to the next but unable to say how or when. 

“Do you want to feed her?” Beth asked, as Rick stood and looked around the room decorated to be a nursery. His eyes were drawn to the small bundle in her arms, bottle already at the baby’s lips. “Glenn and Maggie brought the formula back, but Daryl got to feed her first. I’ve never seen him smile like that before.”

“A girl.” Rick muttered, taking in the baby as a new reality for the first time, and sitting down on the cot beside a homemade crib that was more crate than anything else. “The baby’s a girl.”

Beth watched, looking ready to dart away at a moment’s notice. “Judith, Carl said.”

Rick nodded, walking away without even holding his daughter.

“He’s gone off the rails.” Someone said at some point, but he wasn’t sure who it was or if they were really there. Maybe it was just his mind conferring with itself.

After all, the voices on the phone hadn’t been there, and he’d heard them so clearly. A safe haven, a place away from everything, in a voice he remembered but didn’t recognize. “Could you take in others?” He’d asked a woman who’d died too young. 

And even when he’d washed out his hair and cleaned his skin and changed his clothes, he hadn’t managed to scrub out the sound of a phone ringing. “Have you killed anyone?” The man on the other end of the line had asked. “How’d you lose your wife?”

But none of those voices were there. Lori’d told him that, and since she was dead, too, that must’ve meant he’d figured it out on his own. 

There was a clock on the wall in C Block now, and a calendar in Beth’s cell. Rick wasn’t sure when they’d gotten there, and they certainly didn’t help him grab hold of the time streaming along beside him. There was a curtain draped over Glenn and Maggie’s cell now, that he didn’t remember seeing before.

T-Dog was doing dishes with Axel, drying them with a cloth and lining the dishes up on some new shelves. Big Tiny hesitantly passed him a plate of something. It was cold when he sat down with a fork to eat it, but maybe it was supposed to be cold. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was eating at all or when he’d last had a meal. 

Carol and Daryl were at the table with him. Carol was working on a ragdoll, sewing together some cloth and explaining as she worked. Daryl was listening with the same sort of awe he used to drag out for Beth’s singing. In front of the teen was brown scrap cloth and a half-formed head. He seemed to be working on a teddy bear. 

Everyone’s eyes trailed back to him with enough frequency to make him self-conscious, particularly with the cautious way they spoke around him, like they were afraid that a misstep or wrong word might send him into a downward spiral. Rick couldn’t say it was unwarranted. More often than not, he felt on cusp of something awful.

“You’re not going back down there, are you, dad?” 

Rick wasn’t sure when his son had appeared, which was pretty remarkable considering the boy was half on his lap in an effort to get him to stay. 

He knew he’d spent an inordinate amount of time in the darkest recesses of the prison hacking away at the few Walkers that remained, and being disappointed at how easily they went down and how few there were to find.

He wanted to be outside the prison, outside the gates where the flood of dead never really seemed to end. And so he was, hacking away at them with an axe he couldn’t remember any clearer than the trip towards the forest.  

He wasn’t surprised to see Lori standing just inside his periphery more often than not for days, her white wedding dress untainted by the blood and all encompassing dirt of the prison. Part of Rick understood that she was dead, but that didn’t stop him from chasing her around anyway, chasing after a few more minutes with her. She never moved but was always out of his reach when he went to touch her.

“Jesus. Grab him.” 

Rick jerked instinctively away from the hand, almost diving into the arms of a Walker that had seemingly come out of nowhere, but before he could pick up his axe and swing, a crossbow bolt was sliding through the Walker’s forehead. Rick clutched his empty hand where he’d expected the axe only to find it absent. He looked around but didn’t see it on the ground, either. He did see a sizeable herd quickly closing in on him, and a slew of dead Walkers around him that he wasn’t at all sure he’d killed.

“Rick, are you with me?” Daryl’s face came into focus. The archer was waving a hand in front of him. “Rick!” 

“Don’t have time for this!”

Daryl gripped his wrist and started pulling him back towards the gates. Rick saw T-Dog and Maggie were giving them coverage, and a few others were pounding against the fence further away, trying to draw the Walkers there instead. He picked up his feet and started running.  

“What the hell were you doing out there?” 

It seemed like everyone gathered had spoken at once when they were out of danger, and Rick glanced around before looking back to where he’d been standing. “I saw her. Lori was out there.”

“She’s dead.” Carol stated firmly, but not unkindly. 

Rick shook his head, but not in disagreement. “I know.” His eyes flickered towards Daryl automatically. He didn’t know if her death could ever been thoroughly separated from the boy who’d ended her life. “You shot her.” 

Daryl shifted his weight before straightening his back and looking Rick in the eyes. “She asked me to. So ya wouldn’t have to.”

Lori’s ghost was beyond the gate again, but she didn’t tell him what had been whispered in the quiet cell before the baby was born.

Rick picked up the conversation later when Daryl came to check on him in the emptiness of Cell Block D. He spoke like it’d been just a few seconds instead of hours, yet Daryl didn’t seem to have any trouble picking up on his train of thought. 

“Did she?” It wasn’t unlikely. Rick knew that much, that Lori would have tried to spare him that duty if it could be helped, but there was also a swell of anger and suspicion directed at Daryl. The teenager was always keeping things from them. Lori’s last words to him were just the lastest in a long line of half-truths and questionable motives. “Or are you just covering up something else?”

“Don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

The exact problem in his mind was difficult to express with his whole world in disarray, but had been niggling in the back of his head since he’d met the archer. Rick had mostly ignored it because his gut told him to trust the boy, but his head had been trying to work out the odd chain of events that led to their meeting. “Why were you in the woods? You wanted to go north, to the prison, had working vehicles that you cared enough about to take precautions with, and yet you left them behind to go traipsing off into the woods in the wrong direction.”

Daryl frowned and tucked his hands into his armpits. “Was huntin’.” 

“So, you stayed in a town you wanted nothing to do with, that you thought was dangerous, so you could  _ hunt  _ instead of take off with the beets and other canned foods? And then you just happened to stumble upon our group right near a herd that I happen to know scares off any sort of good game? That’s what you’re telling me?” Rick wasn’t entirely sure he was making sense. Maybe he should have broached the topic with Carol before challenging the kid. He definitely shouldn’t have gotten smashed to pair off with his fleeting bits of sanity, but he didn’t really know how to handle what was going down in his head, and the front gates were apparently off limits to him now. 

“‘S what I said.” Daryl challenged, meeting his gaze with a glare.

Rick sunk down onto the stairs and waved him off, energy seeming to suddenly disappear. “Go check on Carl, would ya?” He went back to the bottle he’d stolen from their medical supplies.

There always seemed to be someone following him now. Or maybe they had been the whole time, and he’d just been too out of it to notice. It was mostly Glenn and T-Dog walking along behind him through the prison’s empty halls. Carol was the usual suspect in the courtyard, while Maggie diligently kept him from the main gates. He thought they might be talking to him, but he wasn’t really sure. He had to settle for killing things through the fence with Big Tiny surreptitiously trying to inch out of his weapon’s range. 

The next time Rick sees Daryl, his head is clearer, not just from the alcohol, but from his detour into crazytown as well. He sits down heavily beside him with a bowl of oatmeal, ready to apologize and pleased to note that his sudden entrance hadn’t brought about a flinch. Daryl even appeared to be smiling slightly at him. Maybe, he thought darkly, he was just more comfortable with the familiar erratic, raging behavior the former cop had been displaying for several days. 

“Wanted to apologize for grilling you. I ain’t been much of a leader lately.”

Daryl shrugged. “Not an easy time fer ya. I get it.”

“Still. I didn’t treat you well. I don’t want you thinking I don’t trust you.” Rick wondered how far he might have backslid in his adoption project, and cringed at the swelling guilt.

“I know you trust me.”

Rick turned and blinked in surprise, trying and failing to catch Daryl’s eye to confirm that he wasn’t yanking his chain. “You do?” 

“You got yer questions, an’ I don’t blame ya fer that, but ya still trusted me ‘nough to look after yer family. Don’t know that anyone’s ever thought so much of me.”

Rick shook his head slowly, resisting the urge to snag his arm and keep him seated as the boy stood quickly and turned to leave. “You’re my family, too.” He corrected before Daryl could get too far. Daryl faltered a step, but kept walking. It wasn’t the first time Rick had said it, but he thought this time Daryl might believe him.

Carol slid into the seat Daryl had vacated, not trying to hide that she’d been eavesdropping. “That was good.”

“I’m not sure what I did, exactly, but he’s more at ease with me now than ever.” Rick confessed, playing with his food more than eating. “Figured I was fucking everything up, but I guess going off the deep end, blaming him for what happened with Lori and attacking his integrity somehow made him feel comfortable with me. Don’t know why I didn’t think to try that first.”

Carol snorted. “He’s seen you snap, get drunk and target him now, and I’m assuming you didn't take a belt to his back. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop this whole time. I think he’s just now figured out that there isn’t another shoe.” Rick glanced up to meet Carol’s eyes. She, at least, didn’t avoid his gaze, and he could see as clear as day that she was speaking from experience. He wondered if the experience was with him as well. 

Time wasn’t slipping away from him again as he trailed after Carol and gave her a hand carrying and organizing their belongings. When he came back into the cell block later, he nodded at Carl, but his eyes were glued to Judy sitting snugly in Hershel’s arms. Rick hadn’t held her yet. Hershel helped him get the baby situated in his own arms, and Rick took a deep look into the face of his daughter. He thought he might be crying as he tucked her against his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t ever want to let go.

Rick took her out into the sunlight to get a good look, and felt Carl, Beth and Hershel behind him. For the first time in a while, it felt like they weren’t guarding and watching him because he was a danger to himself, but following him because he was their leader. He sucked in a deep, relieved breath and looked around, immediately noticing a bright red basket dangling from a Walker’s grip. That was odd. Rick briefly considered if he was hallucinating again, but the other symptoms had dissipated already. No one tried to stop him when he passed Judith off to Carl and made his way to the fence.

There was a woman with a red basket limping towards the fence, but she certainly wasn’t a Walker. Her eyes were clear as she gripped onto the chainlinks. Rick glanced in the basket to make out baby formula. How could she have known where they were or what to bring for them? For a moment, none of the Walkers attacked her, and the thought persisted that she wasn’t actually there. And then a Walker sniffed the air and moved to attack. She drew her sword and defended herself, but it was clearly with difficulty, an injury in her leg making her stumble and stay off balance.

“Should we help her?” Carl asked, suddenly by his side, and Rick snapped out of his daze. If Carl was seeing her, she couldn’t be another hallucination. And maybe she was dangerous, but he also wanted to hear what she had to say about that formula. 

Carl started firing before he even got there, and then they were both clearing out Walkers as they approached. The woman looked to have fallen unconscious, and passively let him check her over and then carry her back into the prison. 

She didn’t talk much when she came around, seemed mostly concerned about defending herself, which was something he could understand. Still, Rick didn’t let his guard down, questioning her until she started to open up enough to tell them what had happened. “Supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy with a pretty girl. They were taken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I rewrote this chapter three times because it kept coming out wrong. The first one was basically just this awful, actionless, conversationless summary. And the second draft was really difficult to follow. My outline for this chapter was literally only the words, "Rick goes crazy." I had a good idea of some plot points that needed to come out, but the story was working really hard at being uncooperative.


	19. The Governor

“The Governor?” 

Rick swiveled towards Daryl whose inflection was not the dismissive scoffing sound he’d expected. “You know him?”

The archer looked uncomfortable but nodded along anyway. “Yeah. He an’ my pa was always gettin’ in pissin’ matches. They trade some but it’s mostly to keep an eye on each other.  Don’t know much ‘cept my pa said he was a shit businessman on account of him killin’ all his suppliers.” That was ominous. Glenn and Maggie had been taken by a guy who didn’t even see value of people who helped him. Were they even still alive? As if sensing where his train of thought had gone, Daryl immediately continued. “He’ll wanna know how they’re makin’ it. See if they know or got somethin’ useful. They’ll be alive so long as they can make it through interrogations.”

Rick glanced towards the stranger who’d reluctantly given her name as Michonne. She nodded in agreement at the assessment. So they still had time. Not much, but there was a chance his friends were alive, and he could get to them before that changed. They had to move quickly, but he couldn’t afford to take any unnecessary risks, and Michonne was certainly a risk. “Daryl, you know where this town is?”

The teen shook his head, ending it with an apologetic shrug. “Think we’ll need her for that.” Rick glanced over at their new companion and sighed. 

Michonne gave out some more details about the town and the sort of muscle they’d be facing. It looked like their best bet was to try to accomplish this mission through stealth. If they could sneak in and out of the place undetected, they’d stand a lot better chance of making it. Which, unfortunately, made Daryl a much better candidate with his ample experience in quiet and sneaky than either Big Tiny or Axel. Not to mention that the former prisoners were miles behind the rest of them in survival skills and weaponry experience. T-Dog would volunteer the moment he heard about the plan. Hell, with Maggie and Glenn being captured, most of them would volunteer in a heartbeat. He could practically see even Judy’s pudgy little baby arm shooting up. 

“Watch her.” Rick instructed Hershel with a jerk of his head towards the stranger and left with Daryl to get started. After collecting T-Dog from where he was helping Big Tiny and Axel pike Walkers through the fence, he briefed T-Dog on the situation and their plans as they loaded up one of the cars. They had a decent number of military-grade weapons and auxiliary tools that they’d collected from taking over the prison that would do nicely for this trip. 

“Rick!” Carol shouted, slightly breathless from a brisk jog to reach them. 

Rick’s head zipped up, narrowly avoiding crashing into the trunk of the car. He automatically examined the woman for blood or injuries, tension easing slightly when he saw none. “What is it?”

“There’s screaming from further in the prison. Someone must have gotten inside.”

Rick glanced back at their work. Glenn and Maggie’s lives were at stake, and they were on the clock, but where he couldn’t be sure if a delay would hurt them, he was certain it would result in the death of whoever had been screaming. “T, keep working. Get help if you need it. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Rick didn’t wait for a response, just followed Carol into the building with Daryl tagging along, listening as she gave her thoughts on the situation. “It must have been from the administrative building where the wall is down. That place still gets Walkers. I suppose people could just wander in as well.”

Only one of the hallways leading into those rooms was accessible from the rest of the prison any more, the others having long since been barricaded and sealed as thoroughly as possible. The remaining entrance was narrow and kept closed off with a thick barred gate. Rick was dismayed to see that it was only held shut by a heavy rock. It should have been locked. He only ever used the rock if he as going inside briefly and wanted to reserve a quick exit. It wouldn’t really stop a few Walkers from pushing through if they happened upon it while he was inside, but at least he would know if there was cleanup necessary within the prison again.

“Carl.” He surmised disappointedly. They’d passed Hershel and Michonne on the way in, which left the only ones unaccounted for Beth and Carl. He was reasonably sure Beth wouldn’t make the attempt, especially when she was supposed to be looking after Judy, but Carl had done it before. “He’s the priority.”

“We know.” Daryl was already pulling ahead, crossbow raised and inching carefully around corners, before moving swiftly forward. Rick took up position at the back of the trio, letting Daryl take the lead down the maze of poorly lit corridors and Carol work as an extra set of eyes. They heard the commotion long before they arrived at the scene, even with the push to get to the sounds of Walkers growling and metal clanging. 

Carl was leading the charge, or rather, the retreat, and one glance at him suggested he knew exactly how much trouble he was in. There was a large man lugging someone in a fireman’s carry over his shoulders, and three other people tagging along behind him. The last in line was a woman clobbering Walkers with a shovel. 

Sighing, Rick let the group go past, and covered their escape with a few well-placed bullets and the use of his machete. He followed the battle back towards the safe zones, thankful that Daryl and Carol were both cautiously keeping an eye out for his son as the noise drew in more Walkers from places that had previously been cleared. Still, they made it back through the gate with no additional injuries and no sign that the Walkers had gotten into the main thoroughfare. Carol helped him seal and latch the entrance properly and then they jogged back to C Block just a few paces behind the rest of the group. 

“I’ll take care of it.” Carl was saying, gun pointing to the woman on the ground. “She doesn’t have that long.”

“No. We take care of our own.” The black man was saying, waving away Carl’s help. They watched as he used a hammer of all things to ensure that she wouldn’t be coming back. Rick cringed. It was a lot less gruesome with a gun, but he could understand the insistence to make sure they were the ones to do it. 

When it was finished, the man stood and looked towards Rick’s group. His eyes floated around on them before apparently deciding that Rick was the man in charge and taking a step forward. “I’m Tyreese. This is Sasha, Allen, Ben.” He gestured behind him at his friends. 

Rick nodded, but quickly cut him off. “Our friends are missing, so I’m afraid everything else is going to have to wait. Hershel, look them over, treat their wounds, and make sure no one else is bit. Carol, you’re in charge. You can take them out when we’re gone to bury their dead if Big Tiny and Axel are with you. Carl, you and I are going to have a talk when I get back. I suggest you’re on your best behavior so you don’t make anything worse for yourself.” Carl ducked his head. Rick’s mind was already whirling with a list of possible punishments. He hadn’t yet ruled out locking the boy in his cell like it was original purposed for. “Michonne, Daryl, you’re with me.”

His people scurried to their tasks. Whatever protests might be coming from the strangers, Rick completely disregarded, heading outside and down the slope towards the car. T-Dog must have finished because he was leaning up against it chatting with the former prisoners. They quickly jogged down to handle the gates as Rick approached. 

Before they were even seated, however, a loud car horn resounded a couple times before a truck came barreling up the gravel road towards the prison. It honked a few more times while Rick shuffled through his stuff, but T-Dog was faster, and handed off the binoculars after a quick glance. “It’s Maggie and Glenn. Someone else is driving, though.”

“Let them in!” Rick shouted. At the very least, he needed to make sure Maggie and Glenn were inside when the Walkers attracted by the noise reached them. He verified that it was his friends, the fist squeezing his heart suddenly unclenching at the sight of both of them alive and conscious. Maggie was in the front seat, gun aimed determinedly on the driver, a broad-chested man with a blond, military haircut. Glenn was leaning in towards her from the back seat. Had they brought back a hostage? Why? How had they escaped? Still, the situation was markedly improved from a few minutes previously. 

The truck drove quickly through the gates before coming to an abrupt halt. The stranger jumped out of the driver’s seat amidst Maggie’s protests, but she didn’t shoot, even though the man was brandishing a knife. Instead, she helped Glenn stumble out of the truck. He was clutching his side like ribs were bruised or possibly even broken and his face was bruised and bloody. Rick tore his gaze away to look carefully over the newcomer, only then realizing that he wasn’t holding a knife, but that it was strapped to a metal bit where his right hand should have been. His mind was starting to formulate a hypothesis regarding this man’s identity, and he didn’t like it. 

Big Tiny and Axel meandered up from the fence slowly, staring at the man like they’d seen the ghost of a particularly unpleasant acquaintance. They kept their distance, circling around the gathering and giving everyone a wide berth. That cinched it for Rick before Daryl even moved.

“Merle!” Daryl shouted, ecstatic in a way that Rick had yet to hear him. “Merle!” The teenager ran forward, ignoring Rick and T-Dog instinctive protests. He threw his arms around his brother, and Merle returned the gesture, smirking up at Rick like he somehow  _ knew _ how much it was bothering him. Hell, it was probably written clearly across his face for anyone to see. 

Michonne had drawn her sword and was aiming it threateningly towards Merle. Rick didn’t make any attempt to dissuade her, though he took a step forward to make sure he was in a position to keep it from going further. There was no doubt in his mind that Maggie had kept her gun up for a reason. 

Daryl had uncharacteristically and completely let his guard down, even tossing his crossbow to the side in his haste, letting it fall carelessly on the grass. His exposed back was apparently enough of a deterrent for those clutching their weapons. “Thought ya were dead.” He was gasping. 

Merle tolerated the behavior for approximately thirty seconds before apparently deciding it was too emotional and shrugging off Daryl’s grip. “Don’t be a pussy.” He grunted as he shoved the boy away, knocking him back a few steps. Daryl accepted the rough treatment like he was more surprised by the hug than its quick and violent end. “How’d ya make it out? Ya cut off yer own hand?!”

“Didn’t have no choice. Weren’t gonna die in this hell hole.” Merle looked around at the scenery distastefully. “I’ll explain on the way. Let’s get goin’, little brother.”

“What?” Daryl exclaimed, glancing back at Rick. 

Rick shook his head firmly, hand gripping threateningly on his gun in a manner that Merle certainly did not miss. “No one’s going anywhere just yet. Hershel’s going to look over Glenn’s injuries, and then we’re going to sort out what’s going on before we make any rash decisions.” 

Everyone trudged up the slope and back into the building. Michonne led the way grudgingly, but Rick didn’t want her to kill Merle. At least, not yet. She was still limping heavily, but he didn’t mind the slower pace because Glenn was also moving slowly, and he needed a few minutes to process what had just happened. Maggie and Glenn were safe, Merle was alive and wanted to take Daryl away, Michonne was a wildcard, and four new people had shown up within the prison who may or may not be trustworthy. 

Merle was making some ugly comments to Daryl about the company he’s been keeping. They were loud and crass, obviously intended to rile people up, and Rick took great pleasure in seeing Daryl’s reaction: an elbow to the ribs and a demand that he shut up. The younger Dixon had come a long way with them.

Inside, Hershel was just finishing up with one of the newcomers, Allen, he thought vaguely, but his attention was immediately caught by the sight of Glenn. Everyone reacted to the return of their missing comrades, Beth pulling Maggie into a hug, which then involved Hershel and Glenn until there was a mass of family crying and murmuring words that couldn’t really be made out. Carol and Carl dolled out hugs next, followed by Rick and T-Dog. Daryl held back, shifting from foot to foot, which Rick had no doubt was due to Merle’s watchful eye. 

Once Glenn was seated and Hershel started wiping away blood from his face, everyone got quiet to hear the missing pieces. Rick turned to Maggie. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were picking up formula for Judith when Merle here got the jump on us. He wanted to know where we were staying, how many of us were here, how well defended we were.”

“Standard stuff.” Merle interjected. “Governor likes to know if there are threats ‘round. ‘Course, y’all weren’t very forthcomin’.”

“He’s the one who beat Glenn.” Maggie added, glaring fiercely at the haughty one-handed man. Rick’s eyes glanced over, landing on Daryl rather than his brother, as he suspected many others were. It was hard to gauge what his reaction was to the proceedings when he kept his head tucked in and his eyes glued to the ground. 

“Weren’t nothin’ personal. Just doin’ my job. If it weren’t me, someone else woulda done it.”

“Your job?” Glenn huffed, turning to glower indignantly. “You threw a Walker at me while I was tied to a chair.”

“Yeah.” Merle chuckled like it was a fond memory. “Tough sumbitch, ain’tcha?”

Rick held up a hand to stop the arguing, filing that terrible tidbit away for later. “What happened next?”

“Heard someone say his name.” Glenn continued the story. “I sort of figured there weren’t all that many Merles around, and so close to the prison to boot, so I asked if he had a little brother named Daryl.” Shrugging, Glenn skipped ahead, glossing over what was probably an epic argument at best and more likely the cause of more of his injuries. Rick’s eyes slid over to Maggie, wondering if she was in the room at the time or if something else had happened. “We made a deal, and he got us out of there.”

“And you brought him here?” Rick asked, a hint of disapproval in his voice. It was safer than his other incredulous question about them trading Daryl’s safety for their own because it wasn’t fair, and he was absolutely glad they’d gotten back in one piece. He wondered if they’d intended to turn Daryl over to his brother or if it was a ploy, but that wasn’t something he could ask, either. “He’ll tell the Governor where we are.”

“Ain’t goin’ back there.” Merle declared, and for once his insistence on butting in was helpful. “Killed two of my own people gettin’ yers loose, with enough witnesses to get a bounty on my head.”

“It wasn’t the original agreement, but… things happened.”

Rick nodded, hoping the vague responses weren’t hiding vital information. Somehow, in all the scenarios about Daryl getting his brother back, he hadn’t anticipated the shitshow they were involved in now. He knew Merle would be bad news, but he’d allowed himself the comfort of his death to ease his worries that were now coming back full force. “So you were expecting him to stay?”

“Not my decision.” Glenn shrugged with a look towards Rick like he didn’t envy his upcoming choices. The Korean thanked Hershel for his help, but didn’t bother to stand. Maggie came beside him and sat down within his personal space. She clutched his hand. 

In the brief moment of silence, Daryl spoke unexpectedly, cocking his head so he could look at Merle. “Why ya workin’ fer him, anyway? Pa hates him. Says he’s dangerous.”

Merle scowled. “Pa left me to rot in this here prison when the world ended. I had to fight my way out. Woulda died fer sure if’n the Governor hadn’t shown up with a scoutin’ party. His doctor saved my skin. Then I was obliged to help him.” He said obliged in a slow, languid fashion that spoke unkindly of the Governor’s character in a more significant way than most of their conversation had managed to establish. “Now that I’ve overstayed my welcome, we’d best be gettin’ on home ‘fore the Governor catches ours unaware. Hear business has been good to Pa, an’ I got no doubt the Governor knows it, too.”

Rick took a step towards the brothers, keeping his hand off his gun, but only with a conscious effort. “You’re not taking Daryl with you.”

“The hell I ain’t. He’s my blood. I’ve taken care of him his whole damn life.”

“Stay here, then.” Rick offered, feeling the words slide off his tongue like mud. He didn’t like it, but he’d do it for Daryl. He’d have to find a way to make it safer for his family, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Merle taking the boy back to his father. He couldn’t bear the thought of Merle taking Daryl away from him. 

“What? No!” Glenn’s voice was the first to protest, joined quickly by Maggie’s. “I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t wanting him sleeping near us.”

Oddly enough, Michonne spoke up, as well, though he wasn’t surprised when he heard what she had to say. “He tried to kill me!” 

“That doesn’t seem wise, Rick.” Hershel added after several other protests. 

“He’s family.” Daryl spoke up. “An’ he did get Glenn an’ Maggie out of there.”

“After he captured and beat us.” 

Rick put his hand to the bridge of his nose and tried to ignore that Lori’s ghost was back, hovering on the upper railings. He couldn’t slip back to where he’d been before. He needed to hang on or he’d lose Daryl. It was the great irony that the only one of these strangers he felt particularly inclined to throw down the welcome mat for was the one that had proven himself to be the most detestable. And the others really did deserve consideration. Maybe he’d be looking at another situation like Tomas and Andrew, but maybe they’d be as friendly and valuable as the other prisoners. “There are other cell blocks that have been cleared out. Anyone who has been here less than a day is welcome to take up residence in those cells. You’ll be able to trade labor in chores for food, water, and other supplies. But if the Governor discovers our location, we won’t be safe.”

Merle huffed, leaning against the wall. “Don’t wanna stay, anyhow. Got things to do.”

The comment was the only provocation needed for Tyreese and his group to decide to stay. “We’re not afraid of hard work. We’ll do our part to keep this place going.”

Rick nodded at him distractedly. He’d want to watch their weapons access for a while, but none of those four looked problematic. Michonne hadn’t responded to the offer one way or the other. 

“We could kill the Governor.” She said instead. “Then he’s not a threat here or to them.” Michonne nodded jerkily at Merle and Daryl. “Sooner or later, he’s going to find out about this place, and he’s going to take it from you, not so he can move his people to a safer location, but just so he can fill it with Walkers and keep it out of the game.”

Snorting, Merle rolled one shoulder before pushing away from the wall and turning to taunt Michonne. “Ya jus’ wanna save yer little girlfriend, but Andrea’s been shacking up with the Governor. Blondie ain’t gonna go with ya. She didn’t last time.”

“Wait… Andrea’s in Woodbury?”

Rick could agree with Glenn’s stunned sentiment. It had been months since they’d last seen her, the better part of a year since they thought she’d died with the farm. It could be another Andrea, but what were the chances of another blond Andrea surviving in this specific area? Didn’t seem likely. 

Merle was all forthcoming where Michonne was mostly tight-lipped. “Governor snatched them out of the woods, Andrea was close to dying.”

Maggie frowned. “Is that why she’s with him?”

Merle made several unpleasant sound-effects before settling on, “Snug as two little bugs.” He gave a lewd grin before draping an arm over Daryl’s shoulders and steering him towards the door. “Now, we gotta get movin’ ‘fore we lose the light.”

Daryl glanced at them through his overgrown hair, eyes skittering around the members of the group he’d been traveling with for nearly two months now. He didn’t say goodbye, just hunched up his shoulders and let himself be led from the building. 

“Daryl!” Glenn called after him, somehow still managing to be surprised that the teen would follow his vulgar brother back to that hellhole he called home. 

The Greene family seemed too caught up in surprise to react while Carol just had an entirely too understanding sorrowful expression on her face. 

“Oh, hell no!” T-Dog fumed, taking large strides to catch up to them. Rick remembered his righteous fury on Daryl’s behalf when it looked like Daryl might be sent home via Joe’s group. He hurriedly put up his hand to stop the angry man in his tracks. Rick figured more people would just push Daryl further into his shell. Not to mention how Merle would react to a black man getting in his face.

Instead, he followed the brothers out himself. “Daryl!” He called, quickening his steps to catch up to them and ignoring Merle’s looming presence. “You don’t have to go with him. You don’t.”

“He’s my brother.” Daryl said, like it explained everything. And maybe it did. For all he tried to play the hard mask, Daryl was ruled by his emotions and his loyalty. 

Rick stared hard at him. He could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t going to persuade him, that Daryl had already made up his mind. He’d probably have better luck convincing Merle to leave him behind at this point. Still, he had to try something. He played the card that had gotten through to him back when they were still camped at the Post Office: compassion. “So’s Carl. He’s gonna need you.” 

For a brief moment, Rick thought it had worked. Daryl stopped abruptly, forcing Merle’s hand off his shoulder with an unexpected halting half-step. And then Merle opened his mouth. “You his bitch now? Gonna heel cuz he says to heel?” 

“Ain’t nobody’s bitch.” Daryl scowled, far more aggravated by the comment than Rick would have expected. He looked at Rick with a bit of remorse before turning to leave. “He’s one tough kid.”

Rick reentered C Block with a defeated droop to his shoulders and bypassed everyone as he made his way to the cells. “You let him go.” Beth said, voice carrying in the silence of the room. It didn’t sound accusing, but Rick felt it nevertheless.

“What did you want me to do?” He demanded. “Shoot his brother and drag him in here? Lock him in a cell?” 

Beth turned away quickly to fuss with bottles for Judy, and Rick didn’t have it in himself to apologize. He ignored everyone and everything else as he made his way to his cell, only changing direction at the last second and stepping into Carl’s instead. 

Carl was sitting on the bed kicking his legs and looking like he was waiting to be scolded. Rick didn’t have it in him at the moment, just wrapped his arms around his son and held on. “Why do you keep doing that to me?” 

“Doesn’t matter any more.” Carl muttered, eyes downcast. 

Rick tried to piece together what that meant, but kept coming up blank. “It does matter. I want to understand, so I can be there for you. I love you.”

“It’s all so much now. I…” Carl squirmed. “You need Daryl, and you don’t need me. You think I’m a burden, that you have to protect me. But it doesn’t matter because he went with his brother.”

Rick blinked. He didn’t know why he was so surprised to find that Carl was jealous. After all, Carl had a crush on Beth that could be seen from the moon, but Beth had gone after Daryl. Rick knew his thoughts and actions had betrayed how quickly he’d begun to think of Daryl as his own. And obviously Carl had seen how his dad recognized and leaned on Daryl’s skills, but Carl didn’t have any comparable skills to offer. 

At the same time, it’d been easy enough to miss. Carl liked Daryl, looked up to him, and respected him. Hell, for a while, Rick had thought that Carl had something of an infatuation with the older boy based on their interactions, and had watched carefully to hopefully curtail any replay of the Daryl and Beth fiasco. He had managed all of his strong emotions in a very impressive way, probably better than Rick himself had. 

“Carl, I don’t protect you because I think you need it or that I think you’re a burden, I protect you because I’m your father. I know you can handle yourself. You’re smart and capable. You’re a survivor.” Rick sighed. “Truth is, I need you most of all because you’re the reason I keep going even if everything else is falling apart.”

Carl slumped into his chest, letting the hug carry on in a way that would have embarrassed him before the world ended. Eventually, he leaned back to look his dad in the eyes. “I know what to do.” The boy said with determination. 


End file.
